Angel with dirty hands
by Bond.Jane
Summary: AU. A snow storm, an accident and Emma Swan meets lonely Regina. Where Regina sees a desperate teenager in need of help, Emma sees an easy mark, a free ride and a place to hide from what's chasing her.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: **

**The serious warning:** Hark, hark before we start! Proceed carefully into this story. There are scenes that will be triggering for some. Hence, the M rating.

**This story: **Sometimes things like this happen: I came across a painting by Alyona Lewis called _Angels with dirty hands_. It didn't take much to hijack this story from a one shot to this. I can't upload the image here as it is copyrighted. Might I, however, suggest that you look it 's beautiful.

Despite the warning, it still managed to make laugh as I was writing it. It's not all doom and gloom, you know?

Thank you to the lovely MarieYOTZ for her betaing and lovely comments.

Now, on with it.

Much love to you all

Jane

**Chapter 1**

Snow fell mercilessly in swirls of white fury and the wipers of her windshield were simply not coping. The tires were still skidding even though Regina had been doing her level best to keep her foot off the brake pedal. _Stupid_ she called herself over and over under her breath. She knew the storm had been coming in, she had felt it in the air, had seen in the way even the owls had kept to their nests and still she had postponed going into town until it was too late. One day, this fear would have to stop and she would actually have to face doing her grocery run when more than the store keeper would be in the shop. It didn't really count as facing reality otherwise.

But what do shrinks know anyway?

Now her calf muscles were aching from the sheer effort of not pressing on that pedal against her every instinct, her fingers were stiff from holding on too tight to the steering wheel and her eyes burned from trying to see ahead and it hit her then that this was her life in a nutshell- out of control, unable to see where she was going and still fighting tooth and nail to hold on. All the while failing miserably, lost and alone.

She wiped a tear away and in a moment of weakness, wished she didn't have to be alone. Not on her birthday, not again.

And then the whiteness of the road was broken by a dash of yellow careening down the slope, hurtling towards her. Her foot hit the brake then, Daddy's lesson about driving in the snow completely forgotten as if it had never been and the black Mercedes slipped into a halfhearted spin to get mercifully stuck in a bank of snow. The airbag exploded white and hard between the whiplash of the seatbelt and the thump of her forehead against the steering wheel. Her face grazed the cushioning of the airbag before the lights out moment.

… … …

Regina came to and there was only white. Her cheek and forehead were starting to burn in increments and she gingerly touched then. No damage beyond the carpet-like burning on her skin. She looked outside her window. The yellow was a car that had slammed against something far harder than a snow bank judging by the plume of dark smoke coming out of the engine.

Regina staggered out of her car, her movements hindered by the inflated airbag. She took one look at her car, half hidden under the bank of snow and she strode- as much as possible in her heels and the ten inch snow carpet - to the car. She wrapped an armor of aggression around herself during that short walk.

Through the curtain of the falling snow, she could make out the form of the driver, slumped against the steering wheel. She kindled the anger carefully until it roared loud in her ears, so loud that it filled the stillness of the empty road and lifeless forest. The driver remained slumped against the wheel. _Good_ she thought, for driving her into a ditch where no one would be coming to help her out from even if this hadn't been the storm of the decade, probably of the century. The more the gravity of her situation sunk in, the more forceful her steps became, the harder her fists clenched. She was going to drag the idiot from the car, punch him the face, kick him when he was on the ground and leave him there to die of exposure. The train of murderous thoughts fortified her every step, gave her a confidence she hadn't had when she got out of the Mercedes.

She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, quite unaware that the moment the door refused to open, her life had changed forever.

She tried again and again, getting angrier by the second. She leaned to peek inside at the still unmoving driver. She tried the door again, this time with more urgency than anger and it finally gave, propelling her backwards to fall on her back.

She stood and dusted the snow off her clothes and moved to the slumped driver. Carefully, she touched the shoulder. "Hey!" That was not good. There was no airbag and the driver had clearly been far unluckier than herself. "Hey!" She tried again, her anger subsiding, giving way to worry. She pulled the driver by the shoulders worrying at the damage caused by the forehead hitting the steering wheel.

There was moan of pain and then a pair of green eyes opened, a trickle of blood falling from a gash over the eyebrow. A girl. A child really, Regina thought when she pulled the knit hat and a tumble of blond hair came cascading down the slim shoulders. Her knees buckled. _Oh God_.

"Are you okay?"

There was another moan as reply and a pair of green eyes opened momentarily only to slide shut again. Regina felt a little flurry of panic. _No, no, no._ She pulled back and looked around her in the vague, distraught hope that help might be on the way, help from someone better than her, someone good and savior-like. Visions of red blood staining the snow made her breath catch in her throat and suddenly, the only sound was of the blood in her ears, the pounding of her heart, the gentle thumping of the heavy snowflakes on the frozen ground. _No, no, no_, her carefully constructed composure was slipping, slipping from her control as her trusted anger gave way to panicked concern. "Come on, don't do this. Please wake up." She took the girl's shoulders and barely refrained from shaking her. "You're okay, you're okay, come on, you're okay. You're okay."

"Don't panic. I'm okay." The girl mumbled, one hand going to the gash on her eyebrow the other remaining on her lap. "I just need a minute."

"Let me help you out." Regina moved forward and had visions of the girl's legs pinned by the steering wheel, crushed, broken. And then the girl was out of the car. "I'm okay. See?"

But the moment she said the words, she lost balance and slumped against Regina who could do little more than slow down and cushion the fall.

"I need my phone. I need to call an ambulance. We're not far from town."

"No need. Just a little dizzy. See?" The girl tried to stand. Regina hoped the girl managed it. If she had to make a call to the emergency service, the moment they identified Regina's voice or number was the moment that the girl would die without help. But the girl swooned again and this time she placed a hand clearly protecting her midsection as she fell down. Regina moved on instinct to support her, her head doing the quick mental jig. "You're pregnant."

And now that her mind had taken the leap, she could see it clearly, the parka jacket revealing now more than hiding the bump of the girl's midsection. Panic flooded Regina's body replacing all her blood. The girl was pregnant and in a car accident. Without an airbag. Her heart thrummed and her fingers and toes prickled painfully.

"Just a little." A lopsided, fearful smile colored the girl's cheeks."Please don't call anyone."

But Regina did something between a crawl and a stride, unable to fully regain balance and coordination. She reached her car and fumbled with her purse until she got her phone. She'd get the girl to call. She'd get the girl to tell them her name and they would come. For this girl they would come.

The phone was dead. She looked at it stupidly and then at the girl. She banged the phone against her hand, screen against the heel of her hand but nothing made the network sticks come out of wherever they had gone to. Down. Dead. Mute. Useless. She growled in fear and frustration. This girl was going to die on her and it would be her fault all over again and this time she would not survive the mob. This time, she wouldn't.

"Where's your phone?" She rushed back to the girl. When she got no swift reply, she trudged to the yellow car, smoke still billowing from the engine, her intention clearly to rummage through the car until she found one.

"I don't have one."

"You don't?" Regina felt her heart sink all the way to her toes.

"No. But I'm okay. I'm fine. Nothing happened, see?" But there was a grimace of pain when she tried to stand.

Regina looked about her, the messy, convoluted tire tracks on the snow, the darkened snow marking the white blanket on the ground, the sky a darkening, heavy grey. "No..." Though she was not quite sure of what she was refusing. "It's not…" And she looked at the girl's very pregnant body. How could a child understand the danger? "You need…" Her frustration locked the words inside her, made her stumble on her own tongue.

The girl took her hand and pulled it to her, unzipping the parka in a show of dexterity Regina could not have mustered at that moment. "See?" She brought Regina's hand to her now visible belly and pressed her cold hand atop Regina's to keep it in place. "Feel that?" Not for a moment, Regina didn't, not with the invasion of her personal space, not with the thought of someone else's skin on her hand. Her touch on someone else's body. She couldn't have felt a thing through the panic. But the girl's hand just pushed hers around a fraction and then it was all Regina could feel, the warm firmness under her hand and under that, a gentle thump, like someone calling her. Calling out to her.

"You're pregnant." She stuttered dumbly because words kept on failing her. As if only now she understood that state of pregnancy meant that the outcome was a small human, more than a bump on someone's belly. It scared her and she pulled her hand away. "You need a doctor."

"I'm okay, lady. Nothing happened. Kid's kicking. Everything is fine."

Regina looked at her car and then at the yellow metal heap against the rock, the smoke still persistent with none of the comfort of a campfire. Her body stiffened and all the while, she could still feel, like a phantom pain, that soft, warm thumping against her hand. She rubbed it against her pants, trying to get rid of the sensation.

She clenched her hands and found her anger in the maze of panic and confusion. Like hell nothing had happened. She'd be lucky if she could pull her car from the snow bank. She took her anger by the hand and ran with it because it was safer than that warm thumping in the palm of her hand. She rounded on the girl. "What do you mean? Look at the state of my car. Look at the state of yours. We could have died here. You're pregnant and you're driving in this weather. What the hell is wrong with you?" But the girl just stood there, trying her best to look impervious to Regina's ire.

"Nothing. I just had an errand to run. Got caught in the storm, a little lost, that's all. But it's getting worse, so we both better get going. Sort of like now. The snow is piling and pretty soon neither of us will be able to get to where we're going."

"Your car isn't going anywhere. Look at it. It's hugging a rock." And to prove her point, the little yellow car gave a loud sputter, a dying gurgle of sorts and a hiss of steam and then it all went silent. "I'll take you back to Storybrooke. Let me take you to the hospital."

"No." And if there was anything Regina recognized was the panic, familiar as an old song in her ears.

"You need to be checked out. Your baby needs to be checked out. You were in accident. God knows what could have happened to your baby."

That gave the girl pause. She stood awkwardly and Regina had a feeling that this girl had a grace about her that was hidden under the parka and the pregnancy curves. She pushed her hair from her bleeding forehead and studied the blood on her fingers. She cleaned it on her pants and put her hands on her belly. Regina could see her, standing a little bit straighter, a little bit taller. There was, Regina could see, both fear and determination warring for prominence in the young, angelic features.

"I can't."  
"What do you mean?"

The girl smiled something soft and brief and then her face was closed off again. "I mean, I don't need to. He's fine. Baby's fine. He's moving. He's got a good cushion here."  
"Still. You should get yourself checked and_"  
"No. I can't. Please." Panic won. "Please don't make me."

There is something about a desperate soul that always appeals to another desperate soul and even though Regina refused to acknowledge that, she decided that she could stand to be fooled for a little while. If there was one thing Regina knew well was fear. She took the girl's arm and directed her to the Mercedes. She opened the back door and assisted the girl to sit. At least she might as well keep warm while they sorted this mess. Going back to Storybrooke was going to take at least another hour if they made it in one piece. She closed the door and walked around the car hoping against all hope that the tires would find purchase so that she could back away from the ditch her faithful little car was in.

She sat in the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition noting for the first time, as her fingers closed around the key, how frozen she was. Her heart flooded with relief when the engine roared to life at the first attempt. She gunned the heating and rubbed her hands together to make the blood circulate.

She found the courage to turn in her seat and look the girl, noting how her lips were turning a little blue and the skin was deathly pale. "Please don't. Not Storybrooke."  
"Your car can't go anywhere else. How far along are you?"

The girl covered her belly with her hands, pathetic protection though it was. "Almost eight months. Almost."

"But you're not sure."

The girl simply shook her head, the golden curls swinging delicately around her face.

"Tell me where to take you. It might be while until your… husband…" Regina let the word hang in the air for a brief moment noting it had come out bitter and stodgy against her tongue. "… boyfriend… your father…" And still no acknowledgement, not a flicker of it. "Comes looking for you…"

The girl looked at the yellow car and then at her hands covering her belly. "No one is going to come for me." To Regina it sounded like a lie but she was not sure what to do with it, so she just stared ahead and imagined that if she could pray, if there was someone willing to listen to any of her prayers, then, perhaps, they might assist her. _Just this once_, she murmured. _Just this once. _She put the car into reverse and hit the gas pedal softly, hoping not to hear the tires skidding uselessly on the snow. She took a deep breath. If the tires turned and turned without moving the car, it would just pack the snow into ice and then she would not be able to move. But for some miracle, the car moved. And inch at a time, her foot gentle on the gas and the car moved backwards. Regina could have cried in relief. The car moved.

"Please don't take me back." Came the plaintive mewling from the back.

"Where do you want me to take you then? The next town is too far away to drive in this weather." The snow was now being dumped rather than falling and the flakes were getting bigger and heavier.

"Please…"

What were her options, really? Storybrooke? She wasn't sure if the girl even belonged there. To someone there. And even if she did, they were an hour at least away and the tremble on the dirty little face's lower lip and the refusal to meet her eye was a persuasive thing. The next town over was twice as long away if they made it. It was dark and cold and her hand still felt the thump thump thump against it. Regina reached inside her for her trusted anger, faithful companion of her lonely nights, but it was little more than a clank and crank of her brain, like the engine of the yellow car dying smashed against the rock. "Where are your things?"

"Please…"

"Don't make me go looking for them. It's cold and I'm freezing and there's no telling when someone else might come down this road and hit me too. Where are your things?"

"Trunk."

Regina got out of the car plodding on the newly white snow, cursing everything from her heels to the weather and the makers of Volkswagens. She opened the trunk and saw only a small carton box. No purse, no suitcase. A carton box with an old baby blanket with _Emma_ stitched in clumsy letters. She spared the girl a look under her lashes and sighed when all she saw was a child, frightened and alone. Then she plopped the box in her trunk and returned to her seat.

"What's your name?"

The girl remained furiously silent, one hand over her swell of her belly the other shielding her eyes which were, Regina was quite sure, to the brim with tears.

She repeated the question and the girl repeated the silence. "I _will_ drive you to the Sheriff's station…" The _unless_ was redundant. Smart girl.

"Mary." Regina felt her teeth grinding despite her best efforts.

"What's your name, Mary?" Regina asked and restarted the engine. The windshield was completely covered in snow cocooning them in their own world of whiteness.

"Emma." Came the reluctant, angry reply. "Emma Swan."

"Okay. Let's get you a cup of tea, Miss Emma Swan."

And Regina carefully stepped on the gas pedal, slowly starting the Mercedes forward, praying that this was not one more of her many, many mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It never occurred to her to set young Emma Swan right about their destination. Mostly because the sensation on her hand insisted on reminding her of that baby and was thoroughly distracting. Mostly because the world was white, so white and all she could see was Emma Swan's face, bloodied, scared and fierce in her backseat and for some peculiar reason she had to fight the protectiveness that was trying to bloom in her heart. Mostly because, she told herself when she saw the abject fear on Emma's face, she was crap at dealing with people and even the basics escaped her. Mostly.

But when she drove the car into the impromptu garage and she saw the confusion and then relief on the small, pale features, she wished she'd told her before because the smile was what suited that dirty little face. She took Emma's box and her keys and offered her arm to the girl because suddenly her little log cabin in the woods, her idyllic refuge, her impenetrable castle seemed totally inappropriate and inhospitable, dangerous even. She wondered where had her anger deserted her to while she put the first key in the first lock and looked for the tells of trespass, the familiarity of her compulsive routine settling her a little. Emma did not comment on the four safety locks though Regina doubted she had missed it simply because her eyes were alert to her every movement, like the rabbits that studied her from the woods each morning.

Inside, Regina saw her cabin through Emma's eyes: cold and unwelcoming. She directed Emma to sit on the old sofa and hurried to find her a blanket and then to get a fire going in the fire place. The power was down so she switched on the old water heating, put a kettle on. She bustled around because those things helped settle her. She knew that the moment would come when she had time to think and that would be _what the hell was she thinking, bringing this child here_. She could not be responsible for a child. She could not be responsible for a child carrying another child. She could not open her carefully closed off world to anyone else. It had taken her too long to build this much, to feel this safe. This was a mistake on so many levels.

Maybe she should call Sheriff Graham and let him know; call him to collect the girl. Someone would come for her. No one in town would want a child at her mercy. Someone would come. Maybe even Graham. It was a comforting thought. Graham was a good man. He would come for the girl and he would take her somewhere safe. Fortified by her decision, she returned to her car to get the groceries, knowing that she had at least two trips through the snow to get them all. The call could wait until she'd brought all her bags in, she told herself - and that was her second mistake of the day, because with each pass by Emma Swan her hand tingled where she had felt the baby kick and her resolve weakened, her anger dwindled and she found it more and more difficult to pick up the phone and make the call.

It took her three trips to the car to unload her shopping, one more than usual. She hunted for her phone and was surprised with something that felt a lot like relief that it was still dead. And so was the landline. Storm of the century. In Maine. She looked out of her window. The snow now fell as if it was being dumped and the wind was howling outside.

She made a cup of tea, added honey to it and took it to where Emma Swan was sitting still wrapped in her parka though the temperature in the room was now more than comfortable. She sat in front of Emma and handed her the tea. "Drink this. You need to get warm."

"Thank you."

"It's just tea."

"Not for the tea." Regina tilted her head to the side. "For bringing me here."

"Well… that car you were driving... it's not going anywhere else. Ever again."

"I know. Thank you."

"This is not a good place for someone in your…" Regina did a vague gesture with her hand indicating the pregnancy and felt simultaneously ridiculous and bereft at the thought of sending Emma way. "We should call the Sheriff. He's a good man. If you're afraid of your father or… he'll take care of you. But here… it's too remote. I'm not…"

Emma's only reply was to zip up her parka and put down her tea. Uttering the _no_ Regina saw in her features would have been redundant.

"What are you afraid of, Miss Swan?"

"I'm not afraid of anything, lady. I'll get out of your hair now. I'm sorry about the scare and all and thank you for the tea." She pulled a hood over her head and prepared to leave.

"You can't go out in this weather. Look outside. You're going to get yourself killed."

"I can take care of myself."

"You're carrying a baby…"

"I'm pregnant, not dumb, lady."  
"Regina."

"Huh?"  
"My name." Regina waited for the recognition, for the horror, the panic on the girl's face. There was nothing. "Regina Mills." Still nothing. "Wait for the storm to quiet down a little, at least." Regina began to relax a little. All of Emma's panic seemed to be reserved for the sheriff's department, not her.

"Where's my box?" Regina picked up the small volume from the floor where she had placed it and brought it to Emma who held on to it fiercely, parka zipped up to her neck. "I'll wait a little. Just don't go bothering anyone. Maybe you could call me cab or something… You don't need to worry."

"Miss Swan…" This time it was easier to recognize the lie in Emma's voice. Regina found herself wanting to erase the worry lines out of that face but she only managed to upset Emma further, it would seem.

"I'm sorry I imposed on you."

It was a new thing for Regina to feel sympathy for someone but that's what she felt, looking at Emma Swan, wrapped up in her parka, holding onto a paper box with a baby blanket inside. Someone had not done their job right with this kid and, as ever, it was the child herself that paid for those mistakes.

"Why don't you rest a little before you… go? The phones are dead. Probably because of the storm. So until they come back, maybe you could have your tea and…"

"So you won't call the cops?"

"Well… I can't. The phones are dead. See?" She passed her phone to Emma who looked at the display suspiciously. She handed back the phone and clutched the box again.

"'Kay… When it comes back, you can call me a cab."

"Okay."

"No need to call the cops."

"Absolutely."

"You can go and… do whatever I'm stopping you from doing. I'm not going to have the baby now, I promise. You won't even see me here. I'll just stay here, out of your way. Unless you need this… this couch."

"Emma." Emma's expression was a mix of relief and worry and it was making her babble.

"You're not in my way. I'm not going to call the Sheriff or anyone else." And she should stop being nice because there was no point, Emma looked like she was a tough one and all she was doing was exposing herself and then where would she be. "I just want to take a shower, try to warm up, and then get us some food." She just couldn't stop herself, though.

"I'm not going to be here that long. I told you I'm not going to impose on you. This will be over soon. Don't worry."

Regina didn't need to look outside to know that would not be the case. The sky was heavy, the dark, dark clouds hang so low it felt like you could touch them. That meant nothing good. Instead, she lost herself observing Emma. For someone so small, so vulnerable, she was all too fierce. And all too lost.

"I'm not gonna steal from you, lady."

"I know you won't."

"Do you?"

"Yes. Now, I'll just go and… I won't take long."

"'Kay…"

… … …

Regina tried to reason with herself but she lost every argument. She let the warm water do its job and then equipped with comfortable home clothes, she went down the stairs, planning for the evening: getting them something to eat, getting some rest. Getting some truth out of Emma Swan. She had given it some thought: Emma was probably a runway trying to escape the fury of a father. Or mother.

When she walked into the living room, though, Emma was asleep, box clutched tightly in her hands against her belly, parka zipped all the way up, as if she had fallen asleep looking out of the window waiting for the storm to ease.

Regina padded to her and studied that angelic face for a moment, rosy from the heat of the fire and a terrible bruise blooming around the cut on her forehead. Unimpeded, she took in the clothes, worn and old, the skin on her fingers dry and chapped, the hair brittle and the ends split. The shoes flimsy and inappropriate for the winter, let alone such a heavy snow.

She went into the kitchen and opted for tomato soup right out of the can. She was tired and in no mood for cooking even if for once she actually had an excuse to do it. Then she hunted around for a first aid kit that Daddy had left around somewhere when she had first bought the cabin and satisfied that it was all she could do until Emma woke up, she sat on the floor by the fire, just waiting.

Emma's breathing was soft and peaceful, a small smile on her lips. Regina observed her for a while, absolutely still until her hands hitched and she just had to take her sketch book and her pencil. Usually she would have studied the scene for a while and then made a plan, decided where to start, but now, looking at Emma, her pencil simply got to the paper already drawing the forms out of the blank, a face, a cheek, a hand, the curve of a belly. A lock of hair. Her pencil flew across the paper in a way that was unusual to her. She used her thumb to smudge the lines of the scene that were just too sharp for what she was seeing and softened everything, every ray of light. When she finished, she realized she hadn't captured everything, that there was more, so much more, so she just pulled the sheet free and started a new one.

It got dark and the wind got more violent. Her trance was over when the only light remaining was that of the fireplace and her back ached from the hours of near immobility. She stood and walked to the window trying to get rid of kink on her back. Then Emma stirred and shot up on the chair as much as her body allowed her to move fast.

"You let me sleep." The tone was accusatory. "Did you call the cops while I was sleeping?" She stood and clutched the box tighter to her chest realizing that she was not going to be going anywhere because the storm had gotten worse, not better.

"The phones are still dead. I didn't call anyone." Regina turned to Emma, and suddenly she felt guilt overwhelming her about having just invaded Emma's privacy like that, drawing her in sleep, unguarded, without her knowledge. She pushed at her short hair with her fingers. _You're fidgeting, dear_ her mother's voice was still loud enough after so many years of being an orphan. She forced her hands down and crossed them in front of her chest for lack of anything better to do with them. "I didn't, I promise."

Emma's was a stony silence, so at odds with the babbling of earlier as if she too had had time to think better of that vulnerability shown before when she had begged for Regina not to call the police. The effect was broken by a loud grumbling of her stomach that had her flinching and blushing.

"I'm hungry too." Regina offered calmly, but if she had Emma right about this, her hand was about to be bitten off.

"I'm not hungry. I just need to get going."

Regina got a hold of all her courage and approached Emma whose eyes were shining a little bit wildly. "We should disinfect that cut on your forehead. Then, I have tomato soup. We should eat."

"I don't need your charity, lady."

"Regina."

"I don't care about your name. I don't care about you. I don't want anything from you. I don't need anything from you." Emma nearly shouted.

"I'm not…" Regina sighed. She was trying too hard. What did she care anyway? But it would have been nice, not to be alone. Today of all days. "It's my birthday today." Her hands went back to pushing her hair out of her eyes, her nail to her mouth, ready to be chewed off until Regina took note of just exactly what she was doing and stopped herself. The harm was done though, and her darkened thumb had left a smudge on her forehead.

It surprised her when Emma didn't tell her she didn't care about that either. It surprised her when Emma seemed to simply let go of her anger. Regina was familiar with the anger. She was not at all accustomed to letting go of it, like flipping a switch.

"You've got something… there." Emma pointed at her own forehead and then at Regina's. Regina touched it gingerly and her attempt at cleaning only spread more graphite on her forehead.

"Did I get it out?"

Emma seemed to find something funny. "Yeah. You got it."

"Thank you." Regina whispered trying hard not ruin that moment of easiness between them. "Here." She produced the first aid kit. "Let me have a look at that."

… … …

"How old are you?" Emma asked between slurps of her tomato soup and chunks of liberally buttered bread.

"You shouldn't ask that of a lady."

"You're old, right? When people answer like that it means they're old."

"When you get to my _old, old age_ you won't know what happened that you suddenly have so many candles on your cake. You'll still feel the same as you did ten years before. As if time didn't move at all."

"Do you have cake?"

It was the first real enthusiasm that Emma conceded in showing and it made Regina wish she'd bought more than one silly cupcake on a whim.

"In a manner of speaking." It was enough to set Emma on the defensive again.

"I'm sorry. I mean… I wasn't asking."

Regina bit her tongue. The girl, in all her bristle, prickly defensiveness reminded her of someone. She stood and got the little box with the cupcake and placed it in front of Emma in a plate complete with fork and napkin. "Here." She tossed the candle to the side. "Have a cupcake. You can't really call it cake but it's yours."

She saw Emma eyeing the cupcake, trying to not want it and oh, Regina did know that look of trying so hard not to let yourself want something because you know it can be taken away from you. It gave her an unexpected pleasure to see Emma pick up the fork and do a little anticipatory hover over the frosting. She lowered her eyes and tried not to enjoy the moment too much. Emma was to her what the cupcake was for Emma- something that could be taken away very soon. Which was a really bad thing.

"What about you?"

"Huh?" Regina hummed satisfied.

"Wasn't this your birthday cake?" Regina shook her head with a half-smile. "So what's with the candle?" Emma rolled it between her fingers. Regina remained quiet. She wanted Emma to enjoy that cupcake more than anything at that point. "Do you have matches?"

Regina nodded. "In the kitchen." Emma stood and walked in the direction of Regina's finger. When she returned, she had a knife and matches.

She stuck the candle on the cupcake. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you."

Regina looked at the cupcake in Emma's hand, smaller than the crazy candle the grocer had given her when she asked. Emma concluded her song, off key and never more than the one sentence as if she hadn't known the lyrics in their entirety. "Come on, old lady, blow!"

Regina did her best to blow the candle without making a mess of herself because her throat had closed and her eyes had watered a little. The candle sputtered and the flame died. "We'll share." Emma cut through the cupcake neatly and bit into her half in tiny small bites as if that way she could savor it better.

Regina was lost for a moment, looking at her half of the cupcake, and then at Emma eating hers and she committed the lines and shades, the deeps and the shallows of it to memory, to draw it later.

"Well, come on then, lady, have some cake."

… … …

Regina pulled back the covers of the freshly made bed. "You should have a shower."

"I don't smell."

"Of course not, dear. But it will help you relax and_"

"I didn't bring any clothes with me."

Regina's only reply was to go to her closet and produce a lamb's wool pajama.

"I'm gonna stretch that." Emma pointed at her midsection.

"I'm not worried."

"Are you some sort of pervert? Why do you want me in the shower so much? Is it so that you can spy on me?"

"I've made a bed for me downstairs. You can lock your door."

"You're just gonna have dirty thoughts about me, right?"

"No!" Regina felt genuinely shocked. Not offended, she thought later in bed, just shocked that someone so young would expect _that_.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

And that Regina didn't have a ready answer for.

"Good night, Miss Swan."

"Good night… Regina."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** Thank you for all your lovely reviews. I promise I'll get around to reply.

Much love to you all

Jane

Chapter 3

It's funny how snow's silent fall is a noise of its own. The wind had died down but the forest sounded different, empty. All the night noises that were her company during the night were muted and that silence reverberated in her mind, leaving her anxious.

The power was still out so Regina simply added more wood to the fire and paced her living room around the bed she had made for herself on the sofa. Emma had locked the bedroom door as soon as she'd come out. She knew Emma had had her shower after all- she heard the water running and then, she was either paralyzed in bed or she had fallen asleep almost immediately.

For her part Regina sat on the windowsill for the best part of the night, watching the snow falling outside and the sky that promised nothing idyllic. She occupied her mind with all she could: wood stock, food supplies. She had enough wood for the whole winter- for one person with the power on. She had plenty of canned goods, rice and sundries but the fresh produce she'd purchased in town would not last a week, not with two persons. When she exhausted the subject, she was left only with the fear: the dreams would come, she knew, of another accident, of blood on the snow, of her own screaming, of the stench of her own fear and despair. Of help that had not come in time.

Emma and her baby seemed to be fine but if something happened, who would come?

… … …

"_Easy, Sweetheart, keep your foot off the brake." She wanted to be thankful for the way he told her things kindly, always kindly as if she could do no wrong, but all she could feel was the irritation. It burned in her stomach, made it churn, made her jumpy. _

_She wanted to be grateful to Daddy because he was always with her, no matter what, no matter how screwed up her life got, no matter how many people hated her. Daddy was always there, loving her in way no one else ever had or would. And yet, she hated him right there and then. She hated his kind tone, she hated his smile, she hated his spineless self. She hated him and it ate away at her heart. _

_She concentrated harder. The snow was too heavy._

"_Maybe we should stop here, dear, wait it out."_

_But she had the devil on her tail. The humiliation in town was like scalded skin- it hurt, it bothered, and nothing, nothing could ever be alright again and someone had to pay for it. Daddy was just close enough. "No! I want to go to my cabin now, I want a shower and I want_" She stopped herself before she could say she wanted to do something that would make her forget about Mary Margaret heading a town of people ready to blame her for everything. Precious Mary Margaret could never do any wrong. She just wanted to forget the hate in her eyes. She wanted to rub her skin raw until the markings of that day would vanish, swirling down the drain with her shower water. She wanted to forget them so much she would trade nearly anything for it._

_She would give anything to forget that day._

_And then she did. She couldn't see a foot ahead of the car and she was startled by something or other, maybe just a shadow, nothing she could lay blame on, and her foot hit the brake with all the power in her muscles. The car slowed for a second but then the forward movement became spinning and spinning and the more she pressed on the brake, the more the car spun. Daddy put his hand on her arm. "Take our foot off brake." And even with the world spinning madly, he was still comforting, his hand warm on her arm, his voice soft as silk. Her brain didn't obey. Her foot remained on the brake and the car just kept on spinning, spinning until the world was a merry-go-round just like when she was little and Daddy would take her to the amusement park when Mother wasn't looking._

_When it stopped, it wasn't with great fanfare or screeching tires, explosions of squeals of twisting metal. Just a thump._

_Just a little thump._

_Daddy's head against the window._

_When the spinning stopped, her legs were pinned under the wheel and she couldn't move. Daddy was still smiling at her and nothing hurt. Absolutely nothing._

_Then his head fell forward to his chest and she noticed the red blood against the white backdrop of snow. She screamed then. She screamed until her throat gave up. _

… … …

Her scream was as silent as the snow outside. Her mouth was open and there was a storm inside her but all she could produce were pained gasps to try to get air into her lungs.

Okay, she told herself. Okay. You knew the dream was coming. Now it's done and over with. Done and over with. She tried to get her breathing under control. Nothing stirred, Emma was still silent in bed on the first floor, so there'd been no screaming. Good, it was good. She stumbled out of bed to put more wood in the fire. She didn't really need it. The room was warm, the cabin was well insulated, but she needed the light. She needed warm light to push away at the glare of the snow of her memories and at the darkness of the night outside. She pulled her knees to her chest and just rocked a soothing rhythm until her heart returned to its pace and the sweat on her forehead dried.

_You're okay_, she told herself, _now stop this nonsense. Stop it._

She waited for morning in a fetal position.

… … …

She woke up because someone was watching her and she had a sense of self preservation. Her body snapped from its curled defensive position into attack stance in a heartbeat and she was dizzy from the movement she hadn't quite coordinated. There was a wave of relief when she saw young Emma Swan sitting in front of her, her hands covering her belly protectively.

The funny thing was that none of them acknowledged the fear. They stared at each other and then Regina did her best to relax her bunched fists and Emma did what she could to relax her shoulders and change the shielding position of her hands and though the moment of silence stretched beyond the comfortable, Regina extended a gruff "good morning" that Emma answered back.

"You didn't say that you'd be sleeping on a sofa."

"There are no other beds." Regina stated blankly- or she hoped so.

"I should have slept on the couch. It's your bed."

"You're pregnant."

"We have established that before. I mean… thank you for letting me sleep in your bed. It's very comfortable." Regina acknowledged with a nod but remained silent because her voice was still shaky and her throat still hoarse from the silent scream during the night. As it would be for the next day or so. "You're pretty when you're asleep."

"Thank you. Are you hungry?"

"No."

"You're stubborn when you're awake." Regina commented and Emma narrowed her eyes. "Okay, you're not hungry, but I'm sure the little one could use some food, uh?"

"How would you know? You ever been pregnant? I don't see a kid around." It was a cheap shot but it didn't miss. To Regina it felt like a punch in the gut. She stumbled back and did her best to look Emma in the eyes when she stood.

"I'm going to get changed. Upstairs… My clothes…"

Emma was doing something with her hand when she turned around and bolted for the narrow stairs. She did her best and almost succeeded in not running. When she locked her door, she leaned with her forehead against it trying to get her breathing under control. Emma was just a scared child, that was all. Just a scared child and didn't mean anything by it. She didn't know. She couldn't know.

But in the shower, she cried.

… … …

Emma hadn't really slept. She'd dozed in and out of consciousness against her will. She couldn't relax. She was in a cottage in the woods with a stranger that lived all by herself. The world was a bad place, through and through and people did not just do things for one another without the payback shoe dropping.

She considered her options. She couldn't go anywhere in the storm. She'd heard the wind howling and the snow was at least 10 inches thicker now on the window sill, nearly covering almost half of the expanse of glass. That meant she was not walking anywhere.

So what options did she have? She could grab the keys, steal the car and get the hell out of dodge. Tricky and, if only the snow was not all but a wall against the cabin, if only she knew how to get out of here, she would actually risk it. A moment of distraction or, if push came to shove, a knock on the head would be enough to get going.

The other option was not as simple. She could stick around. Lonely people were suckers by nature, just waiting for someone to come around and fleece them. In fact, by the time the first light of day colored the dark sky, that seemed like a pretty sweet deal. The cupcake was a giveaway. The only thing she needed was to find the right note to press: the poor orphan Annie crying out for mommy in the night or a sweet lonely heart in search of someone to love. Clearly, it would be easier, due to her current circumstance, if the weirdo would not be in that way inclined, but she could make it work. The only thing that mattered was to gain some time and her trust. And not to get sucked into the fake sugary romance of it all.

Good plan. It was a good plan. She just had to stick to it no matter who got hurt or broken in the process.

… … …

Regina got into comfortable clean clothes and walked down the stairs. Cold water and snow from the windowsill did wonders for her reddened eyes and she was pretty sure that Emma couldn't tell. The plan was simple: go down, show her the kitchen and then go out into the porch and sit a while in the fresh air, get away from Emma's sharp tongue.

She might have been little more than a child but it was Regina who was at danger, it seemed.

She hesitated on the last step and heard nothing from the living room. Still, there were only two places where Emma could be and she fortified herself before walking into the living room. Emma probably had a few more easy blows in her arsenal and she didn't want to be so vulnerable

"I'm sorry I was such a bitch!" Emma was sitting quietly on the sofa still littered with her sheets and blankets. "Here."Regina reached out to take the cup despite herself. "I didn't spit in it or anything, I promise."

"That's thoughtful."

"Yeah… not really. But I am sorry. You're nice to me and I just… I don't really have much practice at being nice, you know?"

Regina sipped her coffee for lack of better things to do with her face, her hands, or even her feet. "It's nice."

"Yeah?" Emma's face lightened with the smile she gave Regina. "Can we go outside for a little? I don't like being cooped up for long."

"Do you get itchy feet?"

"I get itchy everything." She picked up her parka and handed Regina her pea coat. "Why do you live so far out here?"

"I like it." She opened the door and cleared the two feet of snow that had pilled at the entrance despite the shelter of the trees.

"Do you like living alone?"

"Do you always ask these many questions?"

"Yeah!" Emma stressed as if it were obvious. "When I sniff a secret I do. This one guy I used to know told me I was like a terrier. "  
"He must have known you well."

"Nah… what's a terrier?"

"Seriously?" At Emma's nod, Regina tagged. "A hunting dog."

"Huh… Go figure… So… huh… Did you have a bad dream last night?"

"Again with the questions."

"It wasn't really a question. I heard you screaming. What's it about?"

"Are you married, Emma Swan? Where's the father your baby? Why isn't he desperately looking for you? What do your parents think of your _situation_?"

"Okay, okay I get it. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Regina bunched her fists and stewed. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"Don't sweat it. I can be brat when I want to."

Regina drew in a calming, cleansing breath. "How about some breakfast, then?"

"Aren't you mad at me?"

"I am. But that has no connection whatsoever with breakfast."

"It doesn't?" It was the fact that the expression came out in such a small voice that had Regina paying attention and wondering why.

"How about some toast? The bread from yesterday should still be okay…"

Emma looked less than thrilled. Regina went inside and left Emma out on the porch standing because having a seat on the porch was too much of risk. She toasted the bread and drizzled it with honey, poured a glass of milk and then called Emma to come inside. This could have been her life had it gone the way she'd imagined it would at seventeen: a child of her own, a little house. The only thing missing was Daniel. But Emma didn't come inside and she was as much her child as Daniel was still alive and she put the longing away because what was the point of it.

Maybe she should move. The world was so big outside of Storybrooke County, why bother staying? Maybe she should do just that. She carried the plate with Emma's toast and the glass of milk out to the porch. "Are you okay to be outside?"

"Pregnant, not sick." Emma took the plate from her hand and set in on the railing. She had a sip of the milk. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to have a swing out here on the porch. You could cuddle with a blanket and just watch the snow fall."

Regina was silent for moment. Emma had a way of touching every single one of her exposed nerves. She went inside and brought a chair for the girl.

"It really wouldn't hurt you to think before you talk, dear."

"Even about a swing on the porch?"  
"Indeed."  
"Lady, you've got issues!"

"Yes, I do. Now kindly eat your toast quietly. Silence is golden."

It lasted all of ten seconds while Emma chewed her toast and took a sip of her milk. Regina was enjoying her coffee leaning against the wall.

"Man, I could kill for a cigarette."

Regina's coffee did a double back between her mouth and her nose. "Do you smoke? But what about the baby?"

"Relax, Max. I quit. I'm not dumb." She gave Regina a hurt look. "And I'm not a total screw up… I'm trying to do right by him, you know?"

There it was, the fierce, fierce Emma Swan. "Him? Is it a boy?"

"Dunno… I just always talk to a boy… better be a boy than a girl. Far easier life."

Regina couldn't find an argument against that. Twenty first century it may be, but Emma was right. "I'm sure that's not quite true."

Emma just snorted at that. "Yeah, right..." And Regina was looking at her in this way that gave her a little chill… Maybe, Emma tried to cater to her cynic nature, the loneliness meant that it was anything goes as long as it had a pulse and moved. She concentrated on finding a smile for Regina, something that could come across as genuine and not naïve. Naïve was not good. Maybe she could pull off a flirt.

"Did you give him a name yet?"

"No. Can't find one that I like. Thank you for the milk and the toast. You're pretty when you're nice."  
"You don't have to pander to my ego, Emma."

"I'm not doing any pandaing."

"Pandering."

"Whatever. I'm not." She ran her hand in circles around one particular spot on her belly. "Kid says thank you for the milk and toast too."

"Tell him he's welcome."

"You can tell him, you know? Here, give me your hand…"

"No…" Regina said but her body had other ideas: it moved close to Emma, her hand stretched out, already anticipating the warmth. Regina could see herself, like an out of body experience, going to the girl, hand stretched out to feel the baby and couldn't stop it, couldn't help herself.

By an effort of sheer will, she stopped the movement a hair's breadth away and pulled her hand back. "No. I'm sorry." And then she nearly ran into the house. What was the point? No connections. No connections was better, safer. When the snow stopped, Emma would go and if she went back to Storybrooke, once she told her little adventure in any shop, any diner, she was bound to never come back. No attachments, Regina told herself. No attachments at all.

… … …

"Do you think this is ever gonna stop?" Regina looked up from her hands to Emma, coming in a fit of activity, shaking off snow from her parka and hair.

"Not any time soon, I fear."

"Are the phones working?"

"Regrettably not."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was gonna upset you."

"It didn't. It doesn't."

"Sure thing." Regina looked up at the sardonic reply. She wanted something to fight back with, some witty retort that could help her deflect the all too understanding gaze in Emma Swan's eyes, far too old in such a young face. She drew a blank because, wearing Regina's cream pajamas, with her hair falling around her bruised face in messy waves, she looked very much like a snow angel, the kind Mother's decorator used to hang on the family's Christmas tree, the ones that had gotten her in trouble with Mother countless times over her need to touch _precious decorations_. "So…" Emma continued, undeterred. "Do you have work to do or something."

"No."

"Oh… are you on a holiday?"

Regina sighed. "Something like that."

"Look, I know I'm a pain in the ass, but I'm bored."

"Read a book, then."

"Do you have anything with pictures in it?" She waited a beat and when Regina just looked startled, she gave her a lopsided smile. "Thought so. Look… it's good to talk. Even if I'm not as smart as you, you can talk to me, you know. I do that with the kid and god knows he can't talk back. You can do that with me. You can talk and I'll listen. Just like he does. You can talk to him too. He's not gonna tell, I promise."

Regina had a startling thought that it might not be so bad after all to talk to this girl, to have someone who would listen. Someone, full stop. She was getting whiplash from her own changes of mind and heart about this girl. It was making her nauseous and anxious. "I don't…" Anxious was dangerous.

"That's cool…" Emma's chin trembled. "What do I know anyway, right? I'm just a dumb, pregnant kid. Is it okay if I go and lay down a little?"

Regina found herself nodding along but wanting to explain all at the same time, to qualify her statement, to make that sorrow in Emma's face go way. "I don't know where to start…" she sputtered when Emma was already on the steps. "I'm sorry…"

Emma returned and sat slowly next to her on the couch if she was trying not to startle Regina. "Anywhere's good. The kid doesn't really mind where you start…"

"What kind of things do you talk to your baby about?"

"Stuff… you know, how I don't know what I'm doing half the time… I apologize a lot too. I'm becoming an expert at apologizing."

"I've noticed… What do you apologize to him for?"

"For being a no-good screw up… for getting him a no-good screw up for a dad. For cursing. I curse sometimes… I curse a lot. Do you think he's gonna come out cursing and swearing?"

"I don't think so."

"So I still have time to screw him up, huh?" Emma pulled her legs up and relaxed against the sofa, looking at Regina. "What did you dream about?"

"Quid pro quo, Miss Swan?"

"Lady, I've barely made a reputation in high school. I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Something for another…"

"Ah… Tit for tat, you mean."

Regina smiled and it felt good. "Indeed."

"So, what did you dream about?"

"My father."

"Do you miss him?"

"I do, yes. I loved him very much."

"That's nice. That's a stupid thing to say. I mean… Kids should love their fathers, right?" Emma touched her belly softly and Regina could see a world of worry going through her eyes.

"When they're good fathers."

"Was yours a good father?"

"He gave me everything I ever wished for."

"Like ponies and bicycles and Barbies?"

"Maybe not the Barbies." Regina chuckled.

"What did he look like? Do you look like him?"

"I don't know. He was bald and a man." That got a smile out of Emma.

"Don't you have any pictures of him?"

Regina felt her smile die on her face. No, she didn't have a single photo of her father. She reached behind the sofa and grabbed her sketchbook. She flipped through the pages and found a drawing of Daddy's kind face. "He had a kind face and a wonderful smile." She handed the sketchbook to Emma. "See?"

"Wow… you did this?" Regina nodded. "So… are you like a one of those cool, funky artists that hides away to work?"

"Hardly. I'm no artist, Miss Swan. I just drew my father's face."

"Well, you're real good. But you don't look like him. I mean… fine, a bit here and there. Maybe more like your mom."

Regina took her sketchbook back and stopped short of clutching it to her chest. Mother's lessons about deportment were ingrained deep in the fabric of her life. "Maybe."

"Do you have any drawings of her?"

"No." She was expecting one more of Emma's smash and grab comments but the girl just looked at her, head tilted to the side as if she understood more than Regina had revealed.

"What happened to her?"

"She died a few years back."

"Oh…"  
"What about your parents, Emma Swan?"

"I don't have any."

"Everybody has_"

"You can't count an ejaculation or a pregnancy as parenthood."

"Emma…"

"They… she… _she _left me on the side of a road, okay? Didn't even bother dropping me somewhere safe so…"

"Have you ever found them? Your huh…"

"Progenitors? Good word, huh? Word of the day… No."

"Have you thought about it?"

"When I was little, I used to dream about my mom and my dad coming to find me and apologize and take me away to live in their castle or some shit like that. Buy me a pony."

"And a bicycle…"

"Yeah…" Emma chuckled. "Pretty dumb, huh?"

"No. Not at all." Regina settled back, feet tucked under her, mirroring Emma's position.

"I always thought when I got out of the system I'd go and find them. But now…It must be nice to have a nice dad. Even if your mom was a piece of work." Regina assented. Daddy was dead and he had died a good and kind person, her paladin, and there was no use thinking otherwise. "What happened to your dad?"

She should have seen it coming. She should have seen the smash and grab hit. She turned away from Emma, leaned her head on the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. "I killed him."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

She felt Emma move on the sofa and kept her eyes closed. She could well do without another helping of disgust and hate in someone else's eyes in the space of twenty-four hours, thank you very much.

"For real?"

Regina bit her lip because the tears were threatening and she didn't do weaknesses in front of strangers. _Thank you, Mother_.

"Yes."

"Was that what your dream was about?"

"Yes."

Emma was silent for a beat. "But not like in _murder_ right? I mean, did you _murder kill_ him or did you _kill kill_ him?"

Regina swallowed the lump in her throat. This was not going the way she expected it to go. By now, Emma should have put two and two together and be running for the hills. "Is there a difference?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, one you think about it and plan it and sh_, I mean, stuff, and the other it's like it happens, you know. What was it they say? About intention…"  
"Intent is everything?"

"Yeah. Did you intend to kill your father or…"

"I killed him, Miss Swan. Intention or not."

"What did you do?"

… … …

_The clouds hung low and heavy and the snow was already falling heavily after a night of hard frost. And still she insisted on getting out of town. She couldn't take it anymore, the accusatory glances, the snide remarks of most, the outright accusations of others. She wanted out. She wanted to be able to go outside her own front door without having people vying for her blood, for her head on a pole. She wanted to be able to walk outside and not be pelted by insults or have her name spat on the floor. That was all she wanted. Daddy told her not to go, because the roads were dangerous but Mary Margaret's face twisted in hate was the last straw. She packed a bag and dumped it in the car. If Storybrooke wanted to burn down the house, her house, then at least she would not be inside to burn with it like some sacrifice to appease their anger. _

"_Wait for the storm to pass, Sweetheart, It's safer."_

"_Safe? Daddy, they want me dead. If you had always worried about my safety so much, you shouldn't have allowed her to marry me off like a mare or a prized cow."_

_Daddy had hung his head in shame and for once, just for this once, she was so scared and so angry she did not want to apologize. She wanted him to feel it too, that helplessness, the suffocation she had felt every day since her eighteenth birthday. She wanted Daddy to understand, but of course, he couldn't because what could he do when Leopold was dead? She would just burden him. Just burden a good man. For something that was beyond any help. The only thing now would be to leave Storybrooke, to just hit the town limit and stop when she'd run out of gas. To forget she had lived here, been this person. So she just looked at him and got into the sports car. She felt some satisfaction at the fact that the one good gift Leopold had ever given her would be the one thing to set her free. _

"_Regina." Daddy never called her by her given name. That stopped her on her tracks. "Wait here. I'm going too." It took him two minutes during which she fidgeted and stewed at what was taking him so long. The snow was heavier by the minute and she should have worried about the narrow forest roads if she hadn't been so hell bent on leaving. On never coming back. "I wish you'd reconsider. Our life is here, Sweetheart. And you didn't do anything wrong. You should stay and face them, clear your name." Daddy said as he climbed into the car and buckled his belt. Nearly two years since Leopold had died would have made- should have made- a difference to clearing her name. They would never look at her differently. They would never think differently of her. They would never see her for what she was, only for the caricature that was presented to them._

"_You have the truth on your side." But each word from him and she just wanted him to shut up, just shut the hell up. The truth was far uglier than he imagined. The truth was not her innocence. It was her guilt. But it wasn't him they attacked. It wasn't him they said things to, whispered about, shouted at, hated on. It was her. It was her no one looked in the eye; it was her no one said a kind word to. He didn't know what it was like to live like that. It seemed that as long as she kept her makeup right and her clothes pretty he could ignore all the rest going on around them. Like things with Mother. As long as they kept a civil face, as long as it didn't happen in front of him, he could live with it, he could remain calm and gentle and good._

_She pressed on the gas pedal and was satisfied when the wheels spun madly before the car actually moved. She felt this could be her road trip, just like the movies, her way to a happy ending she hadn't, quite stupidly, stopped believing in. She left Storybrooke through Main Street and didn't feel an inch of regret, only relief. And anger. She pressed harder on the gas._

"_Easy, Sweetheart. It's snowing so you must take care. Slowly and steady. No sudden movements." And the anger just kept on bubbling in her blood with every single word he uttered. "Whatever you do, you must not hit the brake pedal. It will make the car spin and you won't have any control over it."_

"_Daddy, please!"_

_She knew she was high strung, and at that moment, tense as a violin string. She would calm down once she had stopped seeing Storybrooke in her rear-view mirror. She would relax then. Only then._

_It could have been a rabbit, or a bird. She didn't know. All she knew was that there was a shadow and it scared her and she hit the brake pedal and her already jittery hands lost all control over the steering wheel. _

_The car went into a tail spin from which she couldn't pull out._

"_Take your foot from the brake, Sweetheart." Daddy said with his hand on her arm in a gesture that had always calmed her down before. The spinning stopped when the car hit a bank of snow, soft but unyielding. The only sound was the thud of Daddy's head hitting the window. The airbags didn't make a sound. But then again, they had been useless. _

_Daddy's head lolled to his chest and a trickle of blood ran from his temple down the side of his smiling face. _

_Regina screamed then._

… … …

"I got into a car."

"And?"

"And he got in with me. It was snowing and I put my foot on the brake even though he told me not to and the car just_" Years of training were good for this. Regina bit her bottom lip and stopped talking, took a deep breath opened her eyes wide. She waited for some semblance of control before going on.

She felt a warm hand touching her arm and for a moment it was Daddy sitting there. She opened her eyes. Emma had her hand on her arm and was just looking at her quietly, waiting for her, it seemed.

"The car just spun and spun and his head hit the window. He was smiling and I was just angry, so angry."

"At him?"

"I hated him... I hated him for coming in the car with me, for reasoning with me. For not letting go of me. He should've let go of me."

"Why?"

"Because he should have known that bad things happen to people I love."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud! Get off the cross, lady. I'm sure someone else needs the wood and the nails." Regina looked at Emma, startled. "It was an accident. A bad one- and I am _so_ sorry about yesterday- but an accident."

"But I…"

"Look, even the kid thinks it's not your fault."

"How do you know?"

"Here." This time, Regina did not pull her hand away. She let Emma place it on her belly, she let herself feel the movement inside. "The kid says that you had a better reason to hate him then. Something better than a case of the spoiled bratness."

Regina pulled her hand away. "My father was a good man, Miss Swan."

"Okay, okay, don't shoot the messenger. The kid thinks so. Not me. I think he was a great guy." Even Regina knew an olive branch when she saw one. But it was difficult to hold on to it.

"How come you got pregnant so young?"  
"Who says I'm young?" Regina just lifted her eyebrow in challenge. "See, the birds and the bees… The bug has a comfortable back seat and he was just _such a babe_…" Emma accented the last words mockingly. "I have a knack for getting into trouble. I wonder if it's genetic."

"It might be."  
"I'm gonna have to keep an eye on Junior when he grows pubes."

"Charming…"

Emma just laughed. "Give me your hand again. He likes it." _Easy does it,_ Emma thought. _Easy does it._

… … …

"So… you have more of these?" Emma pointed at the sketchbook Regina still had in her hand, open on Daddy's portrait.

"I do."

"Is this what you do instead of watching TV?"  
"Sometimes."

"Show me some. Come on."

With surprising agility, she took the book from Regina. She flipped through pages of birds and deer, fallen trees, fall scenes and death scenes.

"Jeez, you're seriously depressing at times." Regina took the book back, relieved that Emma had given up before the last three pages. "Would you do me?" The question startled Regina mostly because she was still feeling guilty about taking advantage of Emma's sleep to draw her. "Not like that, like do _do_. Like do _draw."_

"Like what?"

"You know, sex _do_."

"Sometimes talking to you is very confusing."

"Would you? Not the sex part, of course."  
"Why _of course_?" Regina mimicked.

"Because I look like a beached whale, that's why. And I'm pregnant. How about that for a turn off?"  
"You worry too much about sex. Besides, you are very pretty. And very graceful… for a beached whale."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"No!" Regina's face was horrified.

"It sounded like you were."

"Absolutely not! You're a child."

"I am not a child." She waited for a beat and Regina let her guard down. "So… you're not into girls, huh?"

"It's not…. You're a child."

"Told you: I'm not. I'm sorry I called you a pervert. You don't sound like one."

"Good!"

"So… if I were an adult would you do me? Like in sex _do _me?"

"Miss Swan!"

"Okay, okay. At least do _draw _me…"

"I don't have any more paper."

"Liar." She handed Regina a sketch book from the pile by the fire. Regina took it reluctantly. "You have shit loads of these. I've seen them. You're not really a pervert, though, are you?"

"I am fairly optimistic that that one is not one of my many sins. Why are we having this conversation?"

"Because you're pretty when you blush. Now… make me look pretty."

… … …

"Leonardo DiCaprio."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He was pretty."

Regina put down the sketchbook where not a single line was yet drawn. "I don't understand."

"He was pretty when he was drawing. You know… that movie… Titanic?"

"That's a very old movie."

"Yeah. But I lived with this family and it was like the only DVD they had."

Regina stopped, grateful for the interruption. "And you watched it a lot?"

"Yeah… sometimes cable got cut and… Anyway… He was pretty."  
"Still is."  
"Now he's handsome. I liked it when he was pretty."

"I suppose." Regina shook her head. She had never spent much time considering the butching up of Leonardo DiCaprio but Emma was on to something.

"Draw me like one of your French girls, Regina."

"I don't have_"  
"Oh, relax. Line from the film. You know, _like I'm the king of the world_ kind of thing."

"Oh…"

"You are a little uptight. Can't believe I thought you'd be a pervert. You look like you haven't had any in years…"  
Regina put the sketch book down again. "I beg your pardon?" Smash. And. Grab.  
"You know… get lucky, bump uglies…"  
"I know what you mean. I just…" She shook her head in disbelief. "You are quite rude at times."  
"Yeah, I know." Emma had the nerve of not looking apologetic. She was throwing Regina off and that was good. That was real good.

"It's not cute."

"I'll let you know when I'm aiming for cute. Come on… do draw me." Regina sighed and adjusted the sketchbook trying and failing to get comfortable. "What? Is the pressure getting to you?" Regina fumbled for a reply. "Would it help if I got naked?"

Regina dropped her sketchbook. "Miss Swan, I…"

"Don't worry, I'm not going subject you to the sight."

Regina picked up the sketchbook and took a deep, cleansing breath. She told herself it was like drawing a deer or a rabbit that could run away at any time. Certainly, Miss Swan seemed to have the attention span of one. So she committed it all to memory, the lines, the shape and the depth of each curl, of each eye lash; the prominence of her breast, the angle of her chin, the shape of each finger. Only then did she put her pencil to the paper, the lines flowing easily out of pencil and paper. She relaxed into it, let the lines flow out of her and lost perception of everything that was not the Emma in her paper.

"You're pretty when you're concentrating."

… … …

Emma heard what was merely a grumble as a reply. She smiled to herself. Regina looked totally at peace, so Emma relaxed her shoulders and let her hands wander on the underside of her belly. Outside, the snow was still falling like it would never end and the wind was still blowing furious gusts. This was good. This was just right, safe. Taking the car was just dumb. The right hideaway she had needed, when she had needed it the most was right here. It felt safe. People were shit, generally, but she felt safe here in this little cabin in the woods. Probably as safe as Hansel and Gretel had been in the little gingerbread house, a mean little voice at the back of her head told her. But she felt safe nonetheless.

The trouble with people who'd had shit rain upon them, she thought, was that they knew they could pull through anything. She was smart enough and resourceful enough and she had escaped hell more than once which meant that now she knew she could do it again. Really, she needed to take this a day at a time. This was the perfect place to sort her head out, to get her shit together. To wait time out.

And Regina looked just lonely enough to want to keep her around for a while. She could manage this. She could manage the woman. Emma estimated Regina would be around her mid-thirties, and she'd been all prickly about the babies issue so, if she was judging this right, she could play the little orphan Annie routine, the child in trouble. Regina seemed inclined that way, anyway. She could play the child in distress in need of some motherly love and she'd have a place to stay for a while. A safe, out of the way place to stay. Easier on all accounts. But if Regina wanted a lover- which she probably needed one any way, she could probably play that role was well. Not as easily, but she was a good flirt. That cock-sucking son of a bitch Neal had taught her well. And maybe the promise, the suggestion could be enough for a while. And it wasn't like she didn't need a little of that too. A body next to hers would be a good change.

And failing all that shit, god only knew the woman might need a friend or two. She could be that too. She could be anything Regina needed or gave her space to be. She was flexible and resourceful enough. But for some reason, befriending Regina was the least appealing option because it would be mutual. It would make leaving just a little more difficult.

She heard the sounds of Regina's pencil sliding across the paper and her peaceful breathing, the silence of the snow outside. The baby moved and kicked softly, happy now that she'd had a meal, a damned good meal in her, and was sitting comfortably. The kid knew the good stuff in life and she could only hope he wouldn't turn out quite like his old man. Not that turning out like her was such a great prize, biting the hand that fed her, planning for manipulation, betrayal and backstabbing when, on all accounts, she could just ask for those things. She had the nature of the scorpion, ready to kill the frog she stood on but, she told herself, she had no choice. Regina might be the loneliest person she'd met but with people, there was never any guarantee. The only person you can trust is yourself. And, in any case, Regina had resources, she could take the hit and move on. It wasn't like she needed a screw up like Emma to bring her down.

And when Emma was out of Storybrooke, happy and safe with the baby, she wouldn't even spare this woman a thought. It was like any other luxury she'd ever wanted: she couldn't afford it. Every man for himself, Neal had taught her. Who was she to disagree?

"There's just one thing I don't get… Regina?"

"Miss Swan?"

"Your dad hit his head. I mean… it's not like it's life threatening or anything."

"No, it's not."

"So… were you so angry at your old man that you just left him there?"

Regina never stopped drawing. She concentrated on the shadows around pencil Emma, filling spaces with darkness and smudging lines to give them depth because light only makes sense when there's darkness. Life's a lot like that, she supposed, lines between life and death, good and evil blurring at the touch of a finger. "I was pinned under the wheel. I couldn't get out."  
"Were you hurt badly?"

"Not a scratch on me. When I was cut free, I walked away from the wreckage."

"I don't get it… why didn't you do anything? Didn't you call the ambulance or something?"

Regina did not look up. "I did. I called 911. Gave them the location, everything they asked."  
"So what happened?"  
"They asked my name."

"Your name? Did you answer?"  
"Yes. And it took them four hours to come. And when they did, Daddy was dead."  
"But that means it's not your fault, don't you see? It's their fault. How come they took so long?"

"It's my fault. They could have saved him if they'd come straight away. God knows there are never enough emergencies in Storybrooke to keep them entertained. But they didn't come because of me. Because I said my name."

Big, fat tears rolled down her face and plopped onto the sketchbook.

_Plop. _

_Plop. _

_Plop_.

Regina wiped them from the paper with the heel of her hand and when that simply smudged the drawing, she tossed the pad on the floor. "To use your colorful language, Miss Swan, I fuck up everything I touch." And she walked up the stairs with a dignity that Emma found herself envying.

"What's wrong with your name?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Regina stood by the window watching the snow falling. The night was dark and heavy around the cabin and it made her feel more alone than she usually did. It had taken some awkward shuffling to come down and let Emma go to bed without looking at her, without talking to her. She'd left the girl alone for the rest of the afternoon, locking herself away in her bedroom and crying her heart out. Emma had called her with promise of dinner but she'd simply ignored the calling. Emma would simply pounce on her bruise-red eyes and Regina was quite sure she could not take one more snide remark. But as ten o'clock had rolled around, she gave up on the privacy of the room. Emma needed the bed. She could not sleep on the couch- it was old and rickety and not at all comfortable in Emma's current state.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Emma had asked her awkwardly when she came down trying to look calm and collected.

"Thank you, no."

"Why do you have so much microwave popcorn?" Regina hadn't immediately replied so Emma had just ploughed on. "There are loads of them. You must really like the stuff, huh... But with no power it's like a hundred spoons when you really need a knife."

Regina had recognized the effort but she had been all out of energy to reciprocate. "Can we just go to sleep, Miss Swan? I am quite tired now." For a moment she'd thought Emma was going to argue. She'd seen the light of battle in the pretty green eyes, but in the end she had just bit her lip and said good night.

Regina wished she had accepted the popcorn or the talk. How would it feel to have someone to share something with? A sorrow or a joy or even just a cup of tea or popcorn. But this wouldn't do, she reminded herself. Emma was held here because of the snow and the moment the storm passed she would go, she would leave to go and live her happy ever after, whatever that meant to Emma and she would still be in that cabin, waiting for the courage to skip town, to leave her past and her memories behind. She'd always had trouble letting go of things and age hadn't improved on anything.

Thirty-five and she was still as stuck here as she'd been at eighteen and married off to settle her father's debts. And who could she blame now? No one cared whether she stayed or went so what could possibly be holding her back? Alone was alone no matter where in the world that would be.

"You're thinking again. Haven't you done enough all afternoon alone in your room?" Emma was suddenly in the middle of the dark living room without Regina noticing her coming in.

"I didn't hear you come down."

"Ah, that's because I'm a sneaky little shit."

"Don't talk like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you don't value anything about yourself."

"Don't be dramatic, lady. It's just an expression." Regina just shook her head. The room was dark, the only light coming in was the eerie glow of the super white snow, so Regina was fairly sure Emma couldn't see her face properly.

"I still wish you wouldn't."

"You talk like a mother… not that I've ever… well… you know… but you'd make a good one…" No, Regina thought, she wouldn't. "Don't try to be a mom for me, Regina Mills." She had a moment of _oops_.

"Because you don't need one?"

Emma just snorted as reply. That had come out without consideration for the consequences. A motherly Regina would be less complicated than a potential sex Regina or even friend Regina. "Were you thinking about your dad again?" _Dumb!_ Her inner moron pointed its finger and accused.

"I wasn't thinking about anything."

"Yeah you were. I could hear you thinking from upstairs."

"I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"You didn't. I feel guilty and can't sleep."

"What on earth for?"

"Don't you wish we had power just so that we could have that popcorn now?"

"You are very persistent."

"I know. Terrier, remember?"

"I'll make it."

"There's no power."

"I know."

In less than five minutes Regina was back, bringing with her the scent of butter popcorn. "This is not really healthy for you, Miss Swan."

"Yes, mommy." Emma snarked. "Where did you plug the microwave? Your elbow?" Emma asked suspiciously but took, nonetheless, a handful of popcorn that burned her hand. She tossed it back into the bowl blowing cold air on her fingers and palm. "It burned me."

Regina dropped her popcorn and took Emma's hand in hers. She blew softly on it. "You'll live. I also have regular, old fashioned corn and a gas hob."

"Yeah, thanks… Shame we don't have a movie…"

"Are you missing Titanic?"

"Ah, funny!"

For a moment, they just sat in silence, something uneasy but companionable nonetheless. They sat side by side on the couch under Regina's bedding with only the dark light of the snow to eat the popcorn by. Emma pulled the covers up to her neck leaving only her arm free to eat the popcorn with. "I'm sorry I keep on hurting your feelings." The sheets smelled like fresh laundry and Regina and it was really nice and homey and liking that smell scared her a little.

"I'm not going to say that it's okay, Miss Swan. It's not. It's not okay."

"I know."  
"I spent a long time repressing those feelings. I you can't just come along and spoil a perfectly good denial."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"Give me your hand."  
"No."

"Why not?"  
"Because you let me touch your belly like some sort of prize, consolation or otherwise. Please stop doing that. Don't play with me, Miss Swan."  
"I'm not playing."

Regina shrugged and leaned against the sofa, the popcorn forgotten in the bowl. "But you are. I'm lonely, Miss Swan, not an idiot. So please, let me ask you: I've had a fairly crappy life so far. Can you try to not add insult to injury?"

Guilt tugged at Emma's heart. "What's so bad about your life?" She leaned against the back of the sofa and studied Regina intently.

"It's a very long story, Miss Swan."

"We have time."

"But I don't have the will or the inclination. You'll need to entertain yourself some other way."

"I didn't mean it like that…"

"Maybe not."

"Can I stay here for a little bit?"

"What's wrong with the bedroom?"

"Nothing. Please let me stay here for a little."

"Aren't you afraid I'll pervert on you?"

"Okay, okay… I'm sorry about that too…" There was beat of silence. "Are you going to send me away in the morning?" Emma asked with a strangled voice because suddenly it occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, this little weirdo might not be so spineless as to put with her and for some reason, that tugged at her heart in a very uncomfortable way. Maybe it was the threat in that. Yeah, maybe it was that.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because Little Miss Sunshine I am not…"

"True." Regina was silent for a while. If she kept on talking, she was sure she'd continue spilling all her most private thoughts to Emma Swan and if she remembered high school correctly, teenage girls are not to be trusted with anything but their innate capacity to hurt without breaking a sweat.

"Please let me stay. I'll be good."

It was the plaintive tone that had Regina turning to Emma and unerringly finding her face in the dark. She held it between her two hands. "Don't you ever say that. Not ever again."

… … …

The intensity of the statement, of the hands holding her, scared Emma. Nothing ever came to her for free. She swallowed the fear. She told herself she had the kid to think about and that she should do whatever needed to be done to do right by him. She told herself she was losing control of the situation, that she had to do something to regain it. And at that moment, it seemed to her that the best way to achieve that was to use sex. The promise of sex. She leaned forward and let her lips touch Regina's, clumsy and desperate. For a second, she could touch victory: Regina's mouth opened and there was a second of hesitation. Then, there was the absolutely jolting sensation of wanting more and she was not expecting that. Victory and control slipped through her fingers. And then, just like that, it was gone. Regina moved her hands to Emma's shoulders and pushed her away, gently but decisively. "No. Please don't."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I…"

"Please, Emma, just go to bed. This day has had enough without borrowing." In the darkness, her cheeks flaming in shame, Emma could see Regina's form hunching, her knees coming up to her chest as if that way she could push the world away. Inside her, the kid kicked, a well-aimed one at her ribs that made her gasp. Okay, so she deserved that. Still, she'd have a conversation with the kid about where his loyalties stood. His first lesson was that, in this life, you had to think of yourself first. And second too. Only when you were on top, could you afford to consider others. And even then, only sparingly. Regina had something she wanted. Something she needed. It was a shame that she'd end up hurting, but such was life. Not a fucking picnic, that's for sure.

… … …

Regina only released her breath when she felt Emma's soft steps in the room above. Her skin tingled- her hands, her lips, her leg where Emma had laid her hand for balance. She didn't have to think hard to know why. Emma was the first person she'd touched, the first person that had touched her since Daddy. And he'd been dead for six years.

She closed her eyes and struggled to breathe. Her chest hurt as if she'd been holding her breath for hours. She fluffed her pillow with soft deliberate movements and adjusted the blankets over her form. Where Emma had sat, she could still feel the impression of her warmth, under her on the couch, over her on the blanket. Her fingers touched her lips. Nothing had changed. Still the same mouth, the same temperature. And yet everything had changed at the hands of young girl.

She thought of Mary Margaret. She'd had the same capacity to rip her life apart, tear her peace to shreds, even when she'd been only a little girl in a cute school uniform.

Mother was proving her point even beyond the grave. If the dead really had some say to the living, she was sure Mother was now nodding sadly, disappointment coloring her striking features. _Regina, love is weakness, dearest._ Emotion, really, her mother had meant. Any emotion. Control was key. She forced herself to remain absolutely still. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe her body would believe it.

… … …

Emma came down when there was barely more light than during the night. She sat on the steps overlooking Regina's improvised bed and sat there until Regina's sense of self-preservation kicked in with a feeling of being watched.

"I really am sorry. About last night."

"So you watch me sleep like a creep and wake me up in the process just to make your apologies? I had an appalling night, Emma. Go back to bed. Please let me sleep a little longer."

"I'm hungry."

Regina groaned. Her body was creaking, her muscles tense and achy like when you get a bad cold. Her eyes were tired and itchy. She had dreamt. Luckily, she didn't remember of what. This way, there was only the vague residual horror of it. If she was lucky, she would not remember the dream. At all.

She got up, surrendering. Mary Margaret had been like this. Only, back then, she'd welcome the intrusion, the early mornings. Leopold would never lash out at his own daughter, whatever his faults, he was a doting father and that worked well in her favor once she honed her survival skills.

"I wasn't asking you to… I mean… look… I can make my own breakfast. It's just…. Please. Go back to sleep. I've got this."

Regina considered her options: none. The living room was next door to the kitchen and that was it for the downstairs space. She lay back down in bed and covered her head with the covers and hoped that Emma would get the drift. Apparently, the girl was good at taking her cues: she moved through the kitchen silently. Regina heard matches scratching the box, the metal of pots and kettle carefully placed on the gas hob, a knife sliding out of the block and eggs cracking. The pepper mill. The scent of coffee and eggs wafted to the sofa and then burning bread. Emma cursed softly and Regina caught herself in time to prevent a smile. She snuggled deeper into her pillow to avoid temptation. Because Emma was temptation: the warmth of her, the life, the noise. The _non_ loneliness. She told herself that she was too used to having things her own way, to not having anyone to talk too. She had lost the ability to roll with the punches because it had been so long she'd lived with anyone. So tempting Emma Swan. Her very own Lolita.

"Scootch." Emma said above her and touched her feet. "I know you're not really sleeping. You're too quiet for that."

Regina tried for a second more and then grunted simply to protest. She sat up and held the covers to her. "Good morning to you too, Miss Swan."

"Yeah, I know, bad manners and all that. But I feel really shitty about last night. I mean… It's like since I met you I've been wearing apologies like a Sunday dress, you know? I'd really like to do something nice for a change. And it was going well, I swear. And then I burnt the bread." Emma sat down and Regina had but time to move her feet out of the way. Emma placed the tray between them. "At least the eggs are okay. And I made you coffee… And before you say anything, yes, I am sucking up to you." Regina was going to argue but Emma placed a tray she didn't remember she had in front of her and made no move to touch her. She handed Regina a fork and a napkin. "Do you like eggs… for breakfast?"

"I usually skip breakfast."

Emma was stumped for a follow up on that. She took her own fork and helped herself to eggs, busied herself chewing. When the silence was unbearable for her, she asked the first thing that came to her mind. "Not bad, huh? I found crackers…"

Regina was yet to try the food. The coffee was terrible: watery and overcooked into bitterness. "No, Miss Swan, not bad." She took a bite of the eggs and nearly sighed in surprise when they were, in fact, edible.

"I need to learn to cook for when Junior gets here."

"Do you intend to practice on me?"

"Yeah?" It came out like an anxious question and Emma was not sure if that fit in with her plan or not. _Get it together, Emma!_

"So… is Junior the baby's name?"

"Nuh. Junior Swan… Kid deserves better."

"Are you ever going to pick a name for your baby?"

"Yeah… I have some options in mind, you know?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah… I was thinking Jack."

"Jack Swan?"

"Jack Dawson Swan. Sounds imposing…."

"Jack Dawson…" Regina intoned in disbelief.

"I'm the king of the world, baby. Auspicious, right?"

"Emma, Jack dies in the end."

"Yeah, but he left Rose pregnant and she never forgot about him and she talked to him every day until she could come and die with him. Right there on the Titanic, where they first met."

"Did I miss a part of the film?"

"It's called fanfiction."

"I'm sure…"

"God, how do you do that, huh?"  
"What?"

"That…" Emma shook her head in frustration. "That dismissing of something I said with just one word…"

"I'm sorry… I…"

"S'alright. Don't sweat it."

"What if it's a girl?"

Emma shrugged. "It's not."

"What if it is? Are you going to call her Rose?"

"Rose DeWitt Bukater Swan… Are you kidding? They'd call her Rose Dweeb Bucket Swan. Or worse. Did you ever get beaten up on the playground? It's not good fun, you know? Eat your eggs."

"What, then?"

"Might call her Regina."

"Miss Swan!" The tone was a warning.

"What? I like it. It's pretty. So what? What would you call her?"

"I'm not having a baby, Miss Swan. I'm quite sure you don't need my opinion."

"Let me guess… You'd call her something royal… Alexandra? Philippa? Gertrude?"

Regina shrugged. Emma had a way of roping her in without her noticing. "Lilly. I'd call her Lilly. If she were mine. Which she isn't."

"Let's ask the kid." Emma commented with enthusiasm as she put the finished tray on the floor at their feet. "Come on, Kid, you have a choice here, so better make it count. You don't want end up with a name like Gertrude or Rudolph, do you?" A light movement made Emma smile. She looked at Regina straight in the eye. "See that? So kid, if you're a boy… do you think Jack Dawson Swan is a good name?" She waited but there was no movement. "It didn't exactly thrill him… disappointing. Disappointing, kid, very disappointing. Your turn."

"Do you honestly not know if you're carrying a boy or a girl?"

"I didn't want to know." Emma answered with levity but for some reason, Regina couldn't quite believe her.

"Daniel." Regina said softly but the name wasn't even finished in her lips and she was already regretting uttering it. "That's silly. Sorry. It's silly. This is not a game we should be playing."

"Do you only do what you're supposed to do? And the kid likes it, by the way. See? Look at that." This time she did not try to take Regina's hand but pointed to a movement Regina could not see."Definitely a maybe. Come on kid… Ethan. Ethan Hunt Swan."

Regina waited. "Nothing?" Emma nodded deflated.

"I guess not everybody is a Mission Impossible fan."

"Guess not." Regina agreed mildly.

"Obi Wan-Kenobi? Come on, kid… style and badassery…"

"Maybe Yoda." Regina laughed at her own suggestion, the sound deep and throaty as she got more comfortable.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"What?"

"He liked Yoda. I mean… How is that even fair?"

"How do you know he liked it?" Regina finally gave up on the pretence of drinking the coffee and put the cup down.

"'Cause he moved. See? There it is again."

"Don't you know any normal names?"

"Ah, who wants normal? Normal is overrated. I want something… something that stands out. Something that makes a statement."

"Must it come from a film, though?"

"Let it be known that Emma Swan is culture on the move. Got it! Kid, you're gonna love this one: Luke."

"Luke? That's a good name."

"Luke Skywalker Swan."

"Star Wars fan, I gather… Anything?"

"No… Maybe Anakin Skywalker… How about it, kid?"

"Miss Swan, he ends up a psychopathic android who tries to kill his own son."

"Fine, Miss-Know-It-All."

"Ripley."

"Oh, hell! Come on, kid. If she called you Bowl McSoup you'd like it."

"He liked it?" Regina moved closer without even noticing and reached out her hand towards Emma's belly. Emma didn't move away and Regina found it the most comforting thing in the world.

"Yeah, he did. Feel that."

"I can't…"  
"Tel him again."

"Ripley."

The baby moved and there was a delighted giggle from Regina, something so foreign in her that it gave her a moment of pause.

"Ripley what?" Emma asked, noting the brief hesitation."

"Lieutenant Ripley, of course. Never was there anyone as bad ass."  
"Wasn't she a girl?"

"A woman. But it works well both ways. What do you think, huh, Ripley? Do you like that name?"  
This time, Regina felt it, the strong movement and she couldn't take her hand away. She was falling head first and there was not stopping her.

"Ripley, huh?"

"Lieutenant Ripley Swan."

"At least kids will think twice before messing with him on the playground." Regina simply assented, mesmerized by the movements of the baby. "I think he just likes the sound of your voice. He can't really like Lieutenant Ripley Swan… Regina… did finally gave up on the pretense of drinking the coffe nd out the cup down.

"Did you ever want to have kids?" Emma asked suddenly and bit her tongue because things had just started to relax, but it suddenly hit her that she was all the kid had. That if something happened to her, the kid would be on his own. Just like her. That she needed Plan B for afterwards. You always needed a Plan B.

Regina did not reply. Her hand was still softly draped over Emma's belly and Emma felt nothing, not a single shiver of discomfort or flicker of acknowledgement. Regina simply did not reply. And then, she stood, neatly avoiding the tray on the floor. "I'm going to brush my teeth and get dressed. Excuse me please, Emma."

When Emma heard the water running in the toilet upstairs, she sighed, took the tray to the kitchen and busied herself with the dishes and once that was done, with snooping around the cupboards. "Kid, why didn't you stop me? I mean… really? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Maybe I should gag myself…"

"Don't be so dramatic, Miss Swan."

Emma turned abruptly. Regina stood by the door of the small kitchen looking fresh and perfect in home clothes that probably cost more that Emma would ever hope to make in a year in a good job well beyond her expectations. It made her feel frumpy and unkempt.

"It seems I'll have to do a repeat performance: I'm really sorry."

"It doesn't matter." And she walked out. Emma finished the kitchen feeling morose and distracted. And she could not afford distractions. Not at this point in the game. But that's what she got for deviating from the plan. She was not shopping for a second parent for the kid and she'd do well to remember that.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Did you get around to finishing that drawing?" Emma asked from her perch on the window sill, studying Regina busying herself with stacking the wood by the fire, stoking a fire. This was the homiest Emma had ever felt and the safest too.

"No."  
"Would you? Finish it, I mean."

"I would like that. If you're up for it."

"Sure."

Regina worked silently for an hour on Emma's portrait when she finally found the courage. "I did. I've always wanted them. Lots of them." Emma looked startled. She'd been lost in her own mind, watching the snow shinning outside under a shy sliver of sun. The storm was over, was all she could think. "Huh?"

"Children. Of my own. It's hard to know that it will never happen. Even harder to see that it happened to someone like you."

"Someone dumb like me, you mean?"

"Young. Someone so young." _Yeah, sure! _The cynic voice bit back in Emma's mind.

"What happened?" Emma did her best to not move. Regina was strict about that. No moving. No turning around.

"Nothing, really. Or life, I guess. Life happened…" Emma felt tempted to ask, to fire her questions at Regina. She had so many and so much bile to spew. But she bit her tongue and waited for the follow up. "I was going to marry my high school sweetheart. We were going to college to study something fantastic and then I was going to marry him and we were going to be happy ever after with our six kids, our dogs, our chickens in a cottage somewhere and commute every day and complain about our crappy old car."

"But you have loads of money…"

"I married a rich man."

"Good for you. You dumped the poor guy for a richer model."

Regina never looked up, never stopped drawing. "Daddy gambled, you see. And he lost a lot of money. He lost a lot of money so we had a lot of bad debts and good name. That kept us going but it wouldn't pay for a cottage or a car. Mother told me that it wouldn't pay for college either. And she made Daddy's life… She was not an easy person, my mother." Regina stopped for a little, concentrating on some detail that Emma could not see.

"So you bagged yourself a rich dude… that was not a bad game plan. Love is overrated anyway." Emma stole a peek at Regina but her expression was closed off and gave nothing away. "And then?"

"I wanted out of there. So Daniel proposed and we had a date at the court house and I bought a cute little white dress. We were going to make it work. People do that all the time. Mother hated it. She hated him and she hated me too, I think. She said I would be wasted on him, that there was so much I could do. That I would do if I _just got rid of him_. And then Daniel had a car accident."

_Well fuck. _The baby moved contentedly and Emma couldn't, for the life of her, imagine what could make the kid so happy. "Did he…"

"He did, yes. It really was an old car. So they told me… And the brakes…"

"I'm so sorry…"

"I didn't get to go to the funeral, you know? Mother said no. Mother sent my apologies and said I was unwell and could not go. Gave me a pill, sent me to bed. I didn't find out, not until later, why. She'd met the Mayor. God knows how she managed that, but she met him, she invited him over, fawned over his daughter. She introduced me to him. Showed me off like a dog in a pet shop. I didn't now, Emma, that you could still do things like that, you know… but she managed."

"What? What did she manage?"

"She traded me off. _Barely used, good as new_ sort of thing. She peddled me off, sold me for the gambling debts. Everything just went away, you know, the creditors, the bills, the threats. Mr. Mayor Leopold Blanchard got himself a young, _malleable,_ impressionable wife that would not make a fuss, would look good hanging from his arm and still be worth something in bed. It was a good bargain for him."

"Not so much for you."

Regina only hummed, neither assent nor denial. She just hummed and it made Emma regret even starting this conversation.

"There was money then. A lot of money. He gave me a car- a new one- so that I could stylishly drive his daughter where she wanted to go. Bought me clothes so that I could look the part. Jewelry."

"Paid for a good college."

"No… What did I need college for? I had him to provide for me, it was decided. Besides, he hadn't married someone to have her off in the big city, spending his money. He got himself a wife so that she could be home and… well… so that she could be home."

"Have his children?"

"He had Mary Margaret with his real wife. Cute as a button. All he needed. Besides… he was too old for diapers and children crying the house down. He just wanted…"

"A pretty piece of ass. God…" Again, Regina hummed and her pencil hovered over the page, touching here and there. She lifted the pad and showed it to Emma. "If you'd gone to college, what would you have studied?"

Regina sighed and smiled. "Well…" she placed her chin on the upright pad and the only thing Emma could see was Regina's face above her own as if they'd been hugging. "Something completely useless, my mother would tell you. Something like art. I was good at that. Before."

Emma reached for the sketchpad and Regina handed it to her. "You're still good."

"Thank you, dear. Time for dinner."

"Yeah… sure." Emma lost herself in the drawing. It wasn't her. Regina was good but not accurate. The person she'd drawn was beautiful, full of light and grace, with delicate fingers and a peaceful expression in her face, like an angel in a Christmas postcard. Emma knew what she truly was: a liability, a snake waiting in the shadows for your moment of distraction to strike and watch you die. "Regina…"

"Yes, dear."

"How old were you when you married this dude?

"Eighteen and one week. Leopold wanted to make sure I was of legal age."

"Well, that's something…"

"Oh, yes, it was. No loopholes, you see. He never did believe in divorce. Or in investments going sour."

Regina returned to the kitchen and concentrated on pots and pans and noise. Noise was what she needed. "Regina…"  
"Yes, dear?"

"What happened to him?"

"Well, it turns out that nine years and fifty weeks was my limit."

"Did you walk out?"

"Not exactly." Regina stopped, placed the knife on the counter stared at her hands. "I killed him too."

… … …

"Say again?"

"I killed him."

"Right… Okay…" Emma let it drop. Regina carried the weight of the world on her shoulders and pointing that out to her now did nothing to help her case. Guilty Regina was easier Regina.

But when she turned around to go and sit back down, she couldn't help herself. "It's called an _accident_ because it's nobody's fault, you know?" Maybe she could make it so that by the time she left, Regina wouldn't be so consumed by guilt that she made everything her fault. Sort of her like her gift. _Yeah, right!_ A voice inside her laughed. _Good luck, numbskull._

Still. She wished, for some obscure reason, that Regina would stop blaming herself for everything. Most likely the guy had stroked out banging his young wife and she was still busy blaming herself for it. _Fucker_.

… … …

"_Give me the wee one now, girl. I am running out of patience."_

"_No." She closed her arms carefully around the little blue bundle in her arms._

_He thumped the cane in anger. "You don't seem to understand. I am not requesting. I am telling you. Hand the child over."  
"He's my son."_

"_He's my grandchild. My legacy. Now, enough with this nonsense. Hand him over and run like hell. If you are still here in thirty seconds, this fine gentleman of the law will take you to where you belong. Behind bars."_

"_You don't know the first thing about babies. You don't have what he needs. He's my son." Fat tears, long sobs, violent shakes- nothing moved him. Nothing made it feel better. Nothing produced a magic door for her to escape. "Please, Mr Gold. I'll bring him to see you. You don't need_"_

"_Your thirty seconds are over, deary." A gesture of his hand was enough, a man in uniform held her arms while Mr. Gold took her baby. Neal watched from a safe distance. Just like he had when he'd pinned the watches heist on her. _

_She felt the slight weight in her arms being taken from her. She heard her baby cry and Neal was still there, looking sheepishly at the ground as if he'd lost all interest._

"_No…."_

… .. …

Emma sat in bed, the scream only a silent hiccup that never left her throat. She looked around for a moment, unsure of where she was. Then the soft lamb's wool pajama slid against her skin and the baby moved and she was back in the cabin in the woods, safe. She stood and went to the window. The sky was clearing up, the clouds disappearing. There was moonlight and the snow shone under the light of the moon. It made Emma want to scream. _Fine! Adapt. Improvise._ It's not like the storm would ever have lasted at least two months. Not with her rotten luck, anyway. Mother fucking Gold and his cane.

She was safe here. He couldn't find her. Couldn't begin to imagine she was here, so close under his nose. She might have to give Regina some morsel of truth. Persuade the woman to hide her for a little bit longer. Just a little longer.

Maybe if she made herself wallpaper.

But as the branches of the trees outside creaked and whipped against each other, Gold was thumping his cane again, closer and closer to her. She lost her nerve.

She stood and padded down the steps silently moving with a grace she didn't know she had. Need sharpens the ability, it seems. She stopped in the middle of the living room. This was unbelievably stupid. So, so, stupid. She sat at the edge of the sofa bed giving herself time to be smart. Regina moaned pitifully in her sleep and Emma slid into bed next to her, carefully so as not to wake her up. Maybe there was a god after all and she'd be out of this bed before Regina even noticed her there. She refused to close her eyes, refused to fall asleep. She just wanted the warmth, the comfort.

… … …

"_It was just a coffee." She begged and hated herself for the pleading tone._

"_And hell is just a place. How often, Regina? How often have you been screwing him? Every time that I turn my back? Or do have special days?"_

_She saw Mary Margaret's sweet face fixed on her, the chin trembling and the eyes wide with tears and accusation. Leopold followed her gaze and smiled a tight line into his lips and closed the door of their bedroom._

"_I didn't_" The rest of her sentence was muffled by the thwack on her cheek. Her teeth clanked together and stars exploded behind her eyes._

"_I want to see that for myself." He grabbed her and pushed her against a wall. He slid his hand up her leg, under her dress and shoved it in her underwear, between her folds. There was no point screaming. He didn't like it when she screamed. "You're wet. You're wet for him. From him. And I don't share. I paid handsomely for you, wife, and you'd do well to remember that. You'd do well to remember who pays for your parents' little comforts."_

"_I didn't do anything."_

"_Liar." He said it with his nose against her neck. "I can smell him on you." His fingers began a punishing rhythm inside her, abrading and bruising. "Are you going to come for me as you did for him?"_

"_Please. You're hurting me…" She didn't even see his hand coming down. This time, she tasted the blood. _

"_I'm hurting you? Do you think me stupid, Regina? You're screwing our dedicated Sheriff in broad daylight. This is how you make a living. It can't hurt that much. You're used to it."_

"_I'm not a_" She closed her eyes in relief as he pushed her onto the bed but made no move to undress. _

"_You are not to leave this house. If you can't behave outside, you will not go out."_

_She sighed in relief when he walked out and the key clinked on the lock from the outside._

… … …

For a terrifying moment, she was back in her marital bed and Leopold was asleep next to her. Except the breathing opposite her was soft, sweet, clean. She opened her eyes a fraction. A mass of blond fluttered delicately with each exhale.

Outside, the light shone off the white snow and illuminated everything inside. Emma's hair was golden in the morning light. _So pretty_. She adjusted the covers over Emma and herself. Emma moved closer to her and whatever space there had been between their two bodies was gone. All she could feel was the warmth of a body in her bed, the press of a knee, the press of the curve of Emma's belly. Regina stayed absolutely still, not knowing what to do, how to react, how to feel. And then the baby moved, as if he too was waking up and Regina could almost imagine the yawning and the stretching. She could feel the movements against her own midsection, so close was she Emma to her. _Good morning, Ripley._

"Good morning." Emma's voice was groggy and sleepy and then a little startled. "What the hell…"

Regina studied her and for some reason, she hoped that Emma wouldn't move. The girl moved only her hair from her face.

"Good morning, Emma."

"What I am doing here?"

"I was hoping you'd answer that question for me." Emma only mumbled something or other. "You look tired."

"I am. But Junior here decided to wake me up so that we can both be awake instead of just him."

"Good morning, Ripley." Regina greeted and was rewarded by a sudden in utero movement.

"See? He likes you."

"Is that why you're here?" Regina asked through the fog of emotion.

"Yeah…"

Regina heard the lie in the reply and looked up to Emma's face. "You don't always have to be on the defensive, you know?"

Emma's reply was to lean closer, to touch Regina's face with her free hand and to pull her in for a kiss. The kiss was part of _the plan. _It started off clumsy, became eager but as Regina began to respond, soft lips and moist tongue, it was like two pieces of a puzzle snapping into place. And that was not part of the plan. That feeling, that want was way far from the plan. There was something tugging inside her, pulling her to desire and heat, so far from the damned plan, and still Emma moved closer to Regina and deepened the kiss with all the certainty of someone who wants to be doing that very thing forever. _Oh shit! _

Regina pushed her back on her shoulders and she didn't react, caught between the heat and the panic of feeling her plan falling through her fingers like sand. Regina's eyes were wide with _oh shit_ written across them in big bold lettering. In a moment of clarity, Emma thought she should have been offended if she wasn't dead sure that her own expression matched Regina's line for line.

The moment that followed was too fragile for words.

Regina covered her lips with dainty fingers and closed her eyes. She made no further move and Emma's belly remained firmly pressed against her.

Only seconds elapsed but to Regina it could have been the whole day or maybe a month until Emma broke the silence. And shattered the illusion of peace.

"I'm not sorry, you know? Not this time." Which was, remarkably, the truth. _Oh, shit!_

"I am. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

"Why?"  
"Because you're a child, Emma."

"No, I'm not!"

"Then tell me, Emma: how old are you?"

"I'm nineteen."

"What year were you born?"

"I was born… what does that have to do with kissing?"  
"How old are you?"  
"Clearly, you're not the first person I've kissed, Regina, so why are you worried?"

"How old are you, Emma?"

It was Regina's unflinching gaze that weakened her. "Seventeen! I'm seventeen, okay? But I'm not a kid. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be eighteen in a month. Would you kiss me in a month's time? Would you kiss me if I was eighteen and one week? What's the difference?"

"Consent, for one."

"Lady, you're full of it. Your husband rubbed off on you. I kissed you. I started it. That's consent enough for me. Are you afraid I'm going to accuse you of anything?"  
"The difference, Miss Swan, is _informed_ consent."

Emma sat abruptly ending the contact between their two bodies. Regina struggled not to feel it as a loss. "This," Emma pointed at her belly, "is information enough, alright? It's a whole fuckin' encyclopedia!"

"One would argue otherwise if that happened to you."

"What the hell happened to you? How in the hell did you get like this?"

"No one bothered asking for my consent. I'm not going to do the same…"

"I thought you were eighteen…"

"And as you put it, what difference could one week make?"

"But I want you…" And wasn't that the truth? Why was she even doing this? Regina was taken enough with the idea of the kid, with mothering them both, so why couldn't she just leave it well enough alone in the safe zone? Why did she have to have this need to play with fire? If she could just _manage_ to stick to the plan, this would go much, much better. Easier too.

"No, Emma... You want something from me and you think this is the way to get it."

"Just because that's the way you got it?"Emma immediately regretted her words but you couldn't take them back anymore that you could _un_ring bells. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Yes. It's the way I got it. And it cost me dearly. But you don't need that. You don't need to come to my bed because of some misguided sense of duty or because you think you need to pay for something. You don't need to force yourself to _be_ with me just to get something from me. Just tell me what you need and it's yours. It's yours, I promise."

"What if I really want to kiss you?"

"You'll get over it."

"Is it because you're not into girls? Because I _saw_ the way you look at me. And you're not… with anyone, right?

"No, Emma, I'm not with anyone."

"Is it because of…" Her hand went to her belly. "I mean… I guess it's a turn off."

"Emma, you're beautiful. Just look at yourself. But… don't we have enough to deal with as it is?"

Emma nodded though she couldn't understand the sadness of that moment. She should be happy that she didn't _have to_. And yet, now she found herself _wanting to_.

_What a mess._

Regina got up from the improvised bed. "I'm going to have a shower. We can have breakfast when we've both cleaned up, okay?"

"Sure." She wanted to shake Regina for using that _reasonable_ tone. She wanted to slap her, to push her against a wall… Regina was supposed to be rattled. Regina. Not her.

When she heard Regina upstairs, she got up and paced. She was antsy and… unsatisfied. When she made a pass at the phone stand, she toyed with it, idle fingers finding a plaything, only to realize that the there was a dialing tone. The phones were back, she realized with a start. Outside, there was a bright sunshine in a nearly clear sky. Suddenly, she remembered her dream and why she'd come down to Regina. _Fuck. _ From then onwards, it was all instinct. She tried the light switch and sighed in relief when nothing happened. The power was still down. She went back to the phone, took the line cord in her hand and followed it to the wall plug, right behind a heavy cabinet. She pulled at the heavy piece and it slid away from the wall, grabbed the cord and pulled nervously until it came off the wall. She'd probably damaged it but by the time Regina found it, she'd be far away.

Far, far away.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

This had to stop, Regina thought. This coming to her bed every night had to stop. She was not made of iron and it was becoming too much, awakening too many needs, too many feelings, with her hands itching to touch and her lips aching to kiss. Still, she did not move. Emma had a nightmare and she'd heard the name Neal and that alone was more information than Emma had ever given her.

When she caught herself with her hand tangled in Emma's hair, rubbing the golden strands between her fingers, wondering what she'd do when Emma picked up and left, she knew it was time to get up and get some thinking distance between herself and Emma.

She got dressed and got out of the house while she still could. Emma was like a magnet and by the time she'd come down from the bathroom the only thing she could think clearly about doing was to get back in bed and how there was no point in going out.

"You're thinking again."

"You're here again."

"I know. Maybe you should move back upstairs. This sofa bed is murder on my back."

"Emma, I'm trying to do the right thing here. Believe me, it's not easy."

"Is it okay to tell you that I wish you'd stop trying? If I promised that I don't want anything from you, that I'm not whoring myself out to you, would you be okay with just coming back to bed? We can do whatever you're okay with. We can have wild monkey sex or we can just snuggle…. I don't care. I just… Fuck… Regina…" _Why are you begging? Just count your damned blessings and go back to your bed_. The thing was… she just couldn't help herself. "I've been on my own for most of my life, okay? Like… a really, really big part of my life and this feels… like home in a way. Not that I have much to compare it against- nor am I asking- but yeah… like home. And all I really want is to be close to you. To touch you, to feel your skin and your hair. Just so that, for once, I'm not alone in the world, you know? I think you're really pretty when you look at me like that, you know? Like you could eat me up whole but there's something stopping you. So, I'd like that touch to come with sex… but if you don't like it, if you don't like the idea of that with a girl… or with a pregnant girl… can you, at least just hold me for a bit?"

"You're seventeen, Emma."

"I was born old, Regina."  
"I'm thirty-five."

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking for a hug."

_What can you ask me crying that I won't do smiling? _Regina felt herself moving forward despite herself, sitting on the edge of the sad old sofa bed and pulling Emma into her arms. When she slid her hands around Emma's torso, when she closed her arms around her, when she kissed her hair and her eyes, her nose, her mouth, she knew very well what she was doing- utter and complete madness though it was, because she knew then that there would come a time when she would have to let go of Emma and that it would kill her.

"Can I see you?"

Emma slowly undid the buttons on yet one more lamb's wool pajama, allowing it to open, to reveal first her breasts, then the stretched skin of her belly. Regina drew her finger down the exposed skin, from the small shoulder to the tip of a pert, full breast and down the curve of the Emma's belly as if she was committing the skin to memory, the color and the texture of it.

"You are so beautiful…"

"Regina, I'm a sure thing… I am asking you for this. You don't need to say those things. Not when you don't mean them."

Regina leaned in to kiss the line her finger had traced. When she finished, she told Emma. "You're an idiot, Emma Swan. And a stubborn one. You're beautiful. Angel-beautiful. You didn't need this much, you know? A little bit less would be fine. The way you laugh, and the way your eyes shine, the color of them. The colors of you. I wish you could see what I see…"

"Regina, please…"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Touch me." Regina looked at her, uncertainty shinning in her eyes. "Anywhere. Anywhere you want to."

Regina accepted the invitation, the order, whatever it was. She took Emma's earlobe in her mouth and sucked delicately and kissed down the column of her neck. She drew patterns on the clavicle that made Emma squirm and kissed her way down her breast until she reached the tip of the nipple. She opened her mouth and let the pert tip slip through her lips and suckled gently, then licked and when back to suckling. Emma moaned and grabbed Regina's face in her hands.

"I want to kiss you. Can I?"

Regina nodded and the heat rose to her cheeks leaving her flushed. She nodded and the eagerness of the gesture made Emma smile.

There was nothing clumsy about that kiss. There was purpose and strength. Emma's lips were firm and demanding, unwilling to let Regina regret or fear or in any way run away from her. When Regina gasped into her mouth, Emma invaded her mouth with her tongue and demanded more. Regina was happy to concede. A jolt shot from her mouth to her sex, a rush of wetness marking her thighs.

"Emma… I'm not sure how to… please you."

"So you've never been with a girl?"

"No. Have you?"

"Regina… I'm seventeen. I've been around a bit. A fair bit more than you, it seems. Don't worry. We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Okay." Regina whispered because anything louder could, quite possibly, break the spell. She took Emma's mouth, and kissed the girl- no, the woman. It was a kiss made of all the loneliness, the hunger, the hope, the capacity to love that still lived in her. It was a kiss that had her moaning and wanting more skin, more heat from Emma. Something entirely too surprising in its urgency. She fisted her hands on Emma's pajama, on the silk strands of hair until she had to stop for air.

Her lungs burning, she smiled into Emma's mouth. "I like that."

Emma's chuckle was throaty and hot. "Yeah… I like it too. Can I have more?"

Regina nodded and got busy again this time on Emma's neck, her shoulders, her arms, her hands. Her fingers. _Dear Lord_, Emma's fingers… Regina sucked them one by one, her tongue cradling the pad of each finger, promising so damned much. Emma shivered as Regina's tongue traced the lines of the flower tattooed on her wrist. She nearly melted when Regina's hand went to the silk ties of her pants. "Are you sure, Emma?" She asked and the only thing Emma was perfectly certain was that she'd burst if Regina didn't make good on the promises of her tongue.

"Take them off me. Please."

Regina helped her stand and pulled the silky wool down column-like legs with something a lot like reverence. On her knees, Regina looked up at Emma's body, so perfect, so full of life. Emma ran her fingers through Regina's hair and time became something of an elastic band, tensing slowly, pulling, pulling with the intensity of a gaze, of the sensation. Regina kissed down the side of Emma's hip bone, and then down a smooth thigh. A hand roamed up and settled on Emma's belly, the baby quiet for now.

Time was an elastic band.

The elastic pulled slowly, tensed up, readied. Regina inhaled Emma's warm scent of sleep and pajama and arousal and the elastic snapped and everything moved forward again, light speed fast, All Regina knew is that she had to try, she had to taste Emma. It never occurred to her that she had no clue what she was doing. Slowly, with remarkable restraint, she traced a line of kisses up to Emma's sex that had Emma gasping for air, slumping into bed and opening herself to Regina. Her fingers dug hard into Regina's shoulder, all patience gone. "Touch me, Regina, please, touch me."

Regina almost lost her courage then. What was she doing, dear god, what was she thinking, but Emma was impatient and demanding and she called Regina back, demanded her attention."Regina!" Which was somewhere between a moan and tantrum. Regina smiled because there was a power in that she had never felt before- never had before- when she asked "Tell me what you want."

… … …

Regina resurfaced when the winter sun was already on the afternoon side of the sky. The light was golden and she was alone in bed. The fire was roaring in the fireplace which explained why she was not cold and shivering given that she was decidedly naked. She moved to find her clothes and her muscles were beautifully sore, lovingly used and all she wanted was to get Emma back into the warmth of the bed and stay there for the rest of the winter, maybe even her life.

Emma was humming in the kitchen. She could give Regina awards for problem solving. Her current shape was not the easiest to navigate and yet, Regina had made her feel like the sexiest of women, the best of lovers. She poured hot water into two cups and made powered chocolate milk. Regina seemed to have a fondness for packets, which was good when you got up, sore and well used at 2 in the afternoon.

"Can I interest you in some breakfast slash lunch?" She asked coming back into the living room and sitting down on the bed messy from their morning activities. Regina sat up in bed and created space for Emma and the tray. She brought her knees to her chest and just studied Emma, beautiful Emma who would, one of these days, up sticks and leave because that's what happened to people in her life. That's what happened in her life- she was alone. "Regina? Hey? Where did you go? You're thinking and it's not good. Oh God! You're not regretting it, are you?"

"No." Regina smiled but even she knew that it looked as fake as a two dollar bill. She moved to Emma and placed a kiss, almost chaste on a shoulder exposed by the unbuttoned pajama top. "I'm hungry. What did you make us?" She could not absolutely regret it, any of it. But she could fear. She did fear. "I'm sorry. No. No regrets."

"Promise?" Emma's smile was anxious and when Regina nodded in assent, she lunged into the woman, into arms that instinctively opened for her in unreserved welcome. "Eat. There's bacon." Emma picked up a crispy slice and put it in Regina's mouth.

… … …

Regina had her wish- and it was a very old one: to spend a winter's day in bed with a lover, snow and roaring fireplace. "Draw me as one of your French girls, Regina."

"You need to watch another tragedy, Emma." Regina commented but took her sketchpad and began to draw Emma as she was, naked, bathed in the warm light of the fire with nothing but a smile on her.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"No." Regina replied and concentrated harder on the drawing.

"Regina, I don't have a lot going for me in life but I do have this one skill. Let's call it a superpower. I can tell when anyone is lying and you, lady, are."

"Emma… I…"

"You don't have to talk about it. But it sounded bad." Regina nodded and continued, head down, drawing, from memory it seemed because she continued with her work and didn't look up at Emma for some time. "I do that too, you know? If you don't talk about it, it didn't happen sort of thing."

"But it did. It did happen."

"Was it about your husband? The dream, I mean…"

"He thought I was having an affair."

"Did he get mean about it?"

Regina shrugged. "He was… jealous."

Emma did her best not to move though her first instinct was to go and check the woman for bruises which was stupid because the husband had been dead for... "Regina? How long ago did he die?"

"Eight years."

"Have you been alone all this time?"

"I'm better off alone."

"Trust me, Regina, no one is better off alone."

"I am."

Emma digested that in silence. "Did he hurt you?"

Regina sighed and answered, still drawing, as if the person drawing and the person speaking were not one and the same. "He was right, you know?" She nodded at something Emma hadn't asked nor said. "After some time, he was right. Not in the beginning. Mother made it quite clear where I stood: that I was to please Leopold in every way."

"Right… so you knew which way your bread was buttered."

"Prosaic, but true."

"So if you had fucked around, you would have dropped your bread butter side down on the muddy floor…"

"Again, true. Mother went as far as suggesting a couple of children to… huh… cement my position."

"But he didn't want that."

"No, he didn't."

"Because he had another kid."

"Yes. Mary Margaret. It was enough for me too, for a while because I was only eighteen. But he never let me forget that she was his daughter, not mine. I was hers: her driver, her babysitter, her playmate. Not her mother. She wasn't my daughter. It got lonelier. He was jealous. And he got even more jealous as time passed. He accused me on a daily basis of cheating on him. Sometimes, he tried to get the truth out of me. I tried to leave but Mother… He left marks on me. I was out one day and the Sheriff, he came to speak to me. No one ever did much of that, you know? I didn't go to Daniel's funeral and I was married to the Mayor and richest man in town in under a month after that so people just drew their own conclusions, you know? I went from normal teenager to black widow in that time.

"But Graham? He talked to me, he asked me about things. He bought me a cup of coffee and he sat with me. I think he saw a bruise and just kept on asking. I never admitted, of course. I do have my pride. But he used to sit with me and talk. Just talk. He was a friend when I needed one. Just a friend. But Leopold…And after him, Sydney. He nearly closed down the newspaper when he decided I was _fucking_ Sydney Glass.

"And then Mother died. I thought I was finally free. Daddy asked me to be careful but I made plans. I was going to run away and see the world. I was going to work in a coffee shop in Rome or serve mai tais on a sunny beach in California and Leopold would be just a bad dream." Regina lifted the sketchpad and gave it to Emma. The fire was slowly dying down to embers and Regina stood to add more wood to the fire and to give herself time.

Emma looked at the woman in the picture, radiating light and warmth and determination. Not her at all.

"He got mean one night. That night he believed that I was _fucking_ the mechanic, Mr. Tillman. He called me all sorts of things, whore, bitch… you get the picture… nothing really bad, but then threw me against a wall, dislocated my shoulder. He had paid for me. So I was his to do with as he pleased. He pushed me onto the bed and he showed me that he was my husband, the only man I'd ever open my legs for.

"Do you want to know the funny thing, though? He apologized. When he told me to get up and there was blood – from my nose, from my… he got me to the tub and he put me in the shower. He washed me, cleaned me up, he told me… he cleaned me up… and he apologized. He said I pushed him too far, that something came over him and… that I _had to _forgive him. Because_ I_ made him do bad things."

"Did you?"

"I couldn't move. I couldn't say a word. I knew that if I said yes, everything would go away. For that night at least, that it would just be so simple, but I couldn't get a word out. And he kept on _telling_ me to forgive him and when I couldn't say the words, he was just so mad... He pushed me out of the bedroom, he told me to go to Daddy's house, because I was just _hurting him_ too much.

"But I couldn't move, Emma. I just went down on the floor when he let go of me, and it was the dirtiest I've ever felt.

"Do you know how someone dies of a heart attack, Emma? It's not like in the movies, you know? It takes time. It takes a lot of time. He said he couldn't breathe because I was upsetting him and I thought _good_. And I thought _I hope you die._ He tripped. He tripped on my feet and he fell down the staircase. I always hated that staircase, the stupid marble and the _burgundy _runner, the _cherry_ wood, the pretentiousness of it all. He fell down that stupid staircase and I almost told him _I told you so. _Except I didn't. I never told him anything because it was his house and his family and his life and I was just an add-on, a decoration… a mistake from the decorator.

"He tried to get up and he couldn't. His heart was dying. The heart dies first, then the brain. So he stood there, his eyes wide open on me, asking me, begging me to help him. He asked _me_ to help him. He cried. He cried.

"I sat there, watching him die, thinking that it should take a very long time. That he should die slowly so that he had time to remember all the times I made him a bad man… so that he could remember all the times he rammed his fingers into me and hurt me like that. I hoped it took a very long time so that he could die knowing what he took from me.

"I don't think he did, though. He always believed he was one of the good guys. I hope he's burning in hell, Emma. I wish that he was still dying and that I was still seeing him die… I wish…" Regina struggled for breath, because her throat was closing, closing around the words and the memories. "I wish that it hadn't been over so soon. That he could have hurt more…"

Emma pulled the blanket around her shoulders because no matter how warm the room was, she didn't think she'd ever be warm again. _They call them accidents because it's nobody's fault._

_Yeah… shit._

She looked at the sketchpad in her hands, at the perfect creature Regina had drawn. "This is not at all like me, you know? I'm nothing like this. I'm all fucked up. I'm nothing like this at all." But it was good to know that someone could look at her and still see that.

She saw Regina out of the corner of her eye, poking at the fire, embers flying all around her from her careless poking. She expected tears. There were none. _Guess you can't cry for that son of a bitch_. There was, however, a bone deep exhaustion about the set of the shoulders. Emma stood, wrapped in her blanket, and sat on the lip of the fireplace waiting for the poking to stop. When it didn't, she took Regina's hand in hers, tossed the fire poker to the side pulled and Regina into her. The woman resisted valiantly but Emma was an unbeatable force. She closed her arms around Regina and didn't open them again until the thrashing stopped. _Screw the game plan. Fucking screw it._

Then, she just pulled Regina back to the old sofa bed and lay down, pulling the woman to her. She closed her arms around her, her baby cradled in the womb between them, rocking them back and forth until they both feel asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

There are so many ways for a heart to break. Sometimes, your heart breaks because life, with its careless cruelty, drags you away from what you dreamt, from what you've built. Sometimes it's because life, with its criminal indifference, robs you of innocence. Sometimes, it's because life, in its unfairness, places a responsibility on you, the burden of the choices of others and it tightens around you like a coil until you can't breathe. Sometimes, your heart breaks in the face of death.

And then, when you're really lucky, there are times when your heart breaks because there is life, because there is the movement of a child still in the womb that recognizes your touch, your voice; because your lover's hand is still in yours when the morning bursts in through your windows, even after you've showed her all the rotten parts of you, your ugly secrets, the humiliations you never told anyone, the beatings life gave you- and still, she is holding on to you, holding your hand and didn't run scared. Sometimes your heart breaks because she has accepted you and held you when you were at your ugliest, at your weakest and she's still there in the morning.

Regina's heart broke and the tears she had been too broken to cry the night before, she cried them then, silently, still holding on to Emma. And then she laughed quietly. One of these days they'd have to actually go and sleep in a proper bed. They had, after all, a perfectly good, traditional, soft bed in a good, cozy, traditional room upstairs.

"You're thinking again!" Emma mumbled.

"I had a good dream."

Emma pulled the mess of hair from her face and tucked it under her chin but remained otherwise still. "What was it about?"

"I dreamed that I was flying."

"Were you going somewhere?"

"Don't know. I was just flying and there was nothing holding me back and I went so high, Emma, enough to see the Earth curve and the blue turn black."

"Did it feel nice?"

"Felt like there's a reason for everything."

Emma didn't reply with words. She just smiled and traced the line of Regina's jaw and then of her brow and the shell of her ear. "Why…" Then she stopped because she was not quite sure how to ask.

"Why what?" Regina pressed though she knew what Emma wanted to know. Graham had asked the same question and back then, she hadn't had an answer for it. She wasn't sure she had one now, but if Emma pressed hard enough, as she had with everything else, maybe she'd find one.

"Why did you take it?"

Regina's fingers tightened around Emma's. There it was. _Face it_ she told herself. "I've thought about that... I think it's because sometimes you just believe what people tell you." Emma weighed the words and found no fault with them. "Not everybody fights back like you do, Emma."

"Did you ever punch him in the face?"  
"No. Why?"

"Do you need a reason?"

"It wouldn't make me feel better. And every time…. Every time something like that happened… he just told me that he was a good man, that he loved me and that I made him bad because he loved me..."

"Did you believe him? 'Cause that's a fucked up kind of love…"

"I think he did. Mother loved me too. And she…"

"Regina_" The diatribe died on Emma's lips when she saw Regina's denial clear as day on her face. Some fights you have to chose the time and place better than others. "Oh, I think it would make you feel better. Much better. Besides… it would show him how his love felt like."

"Personal experience?"

"You could say that."

"Did huh… Ripley's father _love_ you like that?"

"He's not his father. He's an ejaculation. Just like my dad… No. he didn't hit me. But he didn't give a shit about me and… anyway… s'a long story. We have time for that later since there's no chance we can watch Titanic any time soon. But lemme tell you: I'm still waiting for a chance to show Neal what his love felt like… So...how 'bout we get up, get some food? Maybe we can take this party upstairs tonight… If you still want to…"

Regina's sole reply was the gentlest of kisses to Emma's lips.

… … …

Good mood was an understatement. While Emma showered and got dressed, Regina decided that if they were going _to take the party upstairs_, then she should tidy up the living room. She closed the sofa bed and opened the windows to let the fresh air in; cleaned the fireplace and because Emma was still humming in the shower in what was probably the last of the hot water, she dusted and cleaned the floor with a broom that she didn't remember ever using. God, she missed electricity and phones. No phones, no internet and come to think of it, it was probably going to be an issue if she couldn't order supplies soon. She was in no mood to go to town, to slink in and out like a criminal. It was just going to ruin what she had now and what she had now was rare enough that she wanted to hold on to it for as long as she could.

The broom snagged on something under the cabinet and she pulled. Something fell but it didn't register because she was looking at a phone cord hanging loosely from the wall. She pulled the cabinet from the wall and there it was, the jack unplugged from the phone line. Which explained the long delay in connecting the phones after the storm. Sure, no one in Storybrooke would go out of their way by an inch to make her life simpler and she was the only one this far out of town, but this in fact explained it.

She pushed the cupboard back into place and continued to clean. The phone line remained loose on the floor.

… … ...

How do you measure time?

Not the hours or the days of the months but life. How do you measure the time of your life? From misery to misery or from happiness to happiness? Which one goes faster?

Regina thought latter that even though that week had gone by very fast, it was the time to measure everything else by. She could make it last. She could make it last _until_ or she could make it last _forever._ It was the happiest she'd been. And that included the time she'd spent with Daniel making plans for the future, or the time she'd spent with Daddy learning to drive or when she'd been little and hadn't known any better.

For Regina, time was that week. All the rest was measured by it.

They did take the party upstairs. A comfortable bed was a comfortable bed after all. And even the worry that she would have to take Emma into to town when the time came that their little Ripley came along. _Their_ little Ripley. Because of course, Regina had surrendered. Emma was hers and Ripley was hers too. He recognized the sound of her voice, reacted to it. She knew his moods as much as she knew Emma's. He was hers. He. Was. Hers.

The snow was bound to have melted by then. They had almost a month ahead of them if Emma was right. A month was long enough and in April, the snow should have melted and cleared the roads without her needing the County to come along and plough the road. Because, of course, they would not do that for her.

The phone remained unplugged.

… … …

Regina walked carefully on the compact snow on the ground. The occasional flakes that fell were not enough to keep it fluffy and idyllic. Now was the terrible transition time when a miscalculated step landed you on your butt with a sore back. But wood had to be brought in from the shed if they were to keep warm. She pulled the coat tighter around her and shivered despite the layers she'd piled on to come outside. She had a vague thought that she now knew what the arctic explorers felt like and that she could cross the experience from her bucket list and giggled softly at it. She opened the shed door carefully. Sometimes, foxes and wolves came into warm places to stay the night and walking in on one was not how she wanted her morning to go. She took a peek inside and grabbed the wood closest to the entrance. Good thing, she thought, she'd over ordered as usual. She hadn't expected such a long winter or nearly two weeks without power. They were really taking their time to fix the power lines. Maybe Mayor Blanchard wanted her to go into the town hall and make a formal petition just so that she could say no. Or even worse, so that she could _graciously_ and _kindly_ agree to restore the power to this side of the forest.

Funny thing was, she didn't much care about going there if push came to shove. Ripley was coming and he would need heating and light and all those things. For him, she would go into town and she'd petition the Mayor and do what was expected of her. No matter what they pelted her with, no matter what words were shouted at her. Storybrooke had a damned good memory for her trespasses, it seemed. Time she listened to Dr Hopper and faced that aggression head on. For her own sanity and much as for little Ripley.

"Ms Mills!" She thought she'd misheard. It wasn't possible. "Gina!" She froze, an armful of logs clutched tightly to her chest. To give herself time, she picked up two more and then slowly walked out of the shed.

"Sheriff."

"That's a lot of firewood, Gina."

She didn't even know what came over her. Where she would have been tongue tied because everything that happened to her was entirely her own fault, she shot back. "I could have been carrying a smaller load, but it seems that Storybrooke's resources are still so scarce that you cannot restore power to this side of the woods."

Graham danced on his feet, uncomfortable. "Come on, Gina, you know it's been really bad out here."

"Indeed, it has. What brings you to this neck of the woods, Sheriff?" Again Graham did the quick jig with his feet he always did when he was nervous.

"Why are you being so formal? Can't we go in for a cup of coffee or something?"

Something churned in Regina' stomach, a memory, acid, a burn. A hurt. "I'm out of coffee, Sheriff."  
"Gina, you can't be alone all the time. This is not safe. Let me come in and we can talk where it's warm."

"I suggest, Sheriff, that you talk fast and go warm up elsewhere." She clutched the wood tighter to her chest.

"Let me get those for you."

Regina just tightened her grips on the logs.

… … …

Emma shut the water because it had gone absolutely cold. Her back was killing her and the hot water was a balm. She still had almost a month to go. They, Ripley and her, still had almost a month of close quarters to go. And after that… well… maybe this was a good place. Not that she should be thinking of staying but it just… it was difficult to think about leaving here when here she could have everything she'd always missed, and Ripley would have somebody else to look out for him, a safety net like she'd never had. And when had she started calling the kid Ripley? The name was undecided. She wanted to see him first. She wanted…

She wrapped the soft towel around her shoulders like a blanket and looked outside because there were voices and this was the place where that would _never_ happen. There shouldn't be any voices if she was not talking to Regina.

Outside, the Sheriff's uniform against the white backdrop of snow was the first thing she saw and then Regina clutching a bunch of logs like she was drowning. The Sheriff had his handcuffs hanging from his belt and an all-terrain SUV was idling by the trees.

It meant one thing only.

She backed away from the window, padding softly though certainly she could not be heard outside and went back into the room. She pulled her own clothes out of the drawer where Regina had folded them into and put her own silly trainers that were completely useless in the snow. She needed her jacket. She needed money. She needed a car. There only two of those things she could get.

She rummaged through the drawers and found cash, not much, why would Regina, the champion of online shopping have more than 50 or so bucks on her but she also found a credit card and jewelry and that would help. It would help a lot. Crouching, she went down the stairs softly, her back complaining all the time about the silly crouching that didn't help because there were no windows on the stairs and was just a guilt instinct. She found her shoes by the mercifully closed door. She grabbed her baby blanket under her arm and after taking a final look at Regina through the living room window, left through the kitchen door trying her best not to look back.

… … …

"What do you want from here, Sheriff? I don't recall reporting a crime or asking for any help."  
"Maybe you should… ask for help, I mean. I would gladly come out here whenever. Any time." He stepped closer. "You don't need to be a stranger, Gina. You know I've always looked out for you… defended you…"

"Ah, I'm afraid we have a slight difference of opinion on that count, Sheriff."

"You can't hold that against me."

"No?"

"No. Your husband made it abundantly clear that my job was on the line. That my mother's land could be… You know the deal, Gina. You knew it back then! And you agreed…"

"I wish you stop calling me that… And I wasn't talking about filing the report, Sheriff. Though you should have. You had a victim and you failed her. But I was talking about after. When he died."

"Gina, I didn't blame you. I saw what he did to you. No one should blame you."

"Everyone did, Sheriff. Including you. Everyone still does."

"Gina, let's talk about this. There's a misunderstanding. Let me explain."

"Do believe I killed Daniel too? My father?"

"Gina, I know you better than that..."

"Then say it, Sheriff. Say it that you don't believe I killed my boyfriend to marry the richest man in town. Tell me you don't think I'm responsible for my father's death. Tell me!"

"Gina, I…"

Regina clutched the logs tighter to her chest. "Abundantly clear answer, _Graham_."

… … …

The pain in her back stopped Emma on her tracks. She leaned against the closest tree clutching the pocket of her parka full of stolen goods. Regina's and the Sheriff's voices were now carrying in the wind towards her. Maybe if she was quick, she could get in the Sheriff's car. By the time he pawed through the compact, iced snow in his fancy boots, she'd be out of his reach. She moved a few steps towards the idling car when the pain in her back shot again, making her nearly bend over. She breathed in and out slowly. Just her rotten luck. Couldn't the Sheriff show up tomorrow when she'd had the chance to soak in hot water all day and make this go away? And what the hell was it with his tone? _Gina_? What in hell that _that_ mean? _Gina_?

The thought stopped her in her tracks. _Gina_? Like in pillow buddy speak for Ms Mills? Her chest tightened around her breath and Emma told herself it was because if the Sherriff had been that way _familiar_ with Regina she was in deep shit, but under it, there was a need to face off with him and tell him to fuck the hell off or punch him where it counted and make him chew his own balls. Maybe pee on a tree or two.

Forget about the car, Emma told herself. Too far. She turned around to walk behind the house away from the access road where the Sheriff could easily see her. _Please, please, Regina._ She begged silently. _Don't say anything. _ The way things were going, if the Sheriff used that sweet as honey voice on Regina for much longer, she'd probably say everything, everything. Emma quickened her steps and lost her concentration. She slipped on a patch of compact, iced through snow and was unable to stop the fall. She landed on her knees. The pain on her back shot again leaving her breathless. The frustration of not moving like she used to, quick as the wind, made her want to cry. But the panic just made her want to scream.

… … …

"The only misunderstanding is on your part but let me disabuse of that notion right now, Sheriff: you are neither welcome nor needed here. So please, remove yourself from my property."

"Gina, I_"

"Ms Mills, if you please Sheriff."

"We go back a while… Since Daniel. Remember, Gina? He was my best friend. He was mine too. Besides…I'm here on official business."

"It's Ms Mills, Sheriff, no matter who we had in common. And what am I being accused of this time? The storm? The power cut? What? Is that why you are armed and there are handcuffs showing on your belt? It seems you came prepared to make an impression. Maybe even an arrest."

Graham sighed and slapped his leg in frustration. "I'm looking for a minor. A girl in trouble. Her parents are looking for her. They are desperate, Gi_ Ms Mills. She's pregnant and needs care. She needs to be checked up by a doctor. Her baby needs to be checked up by a doctor. She ran away from home and her parents are desperate because she went missing before the storm."

"I haven't seen anyone like that."

"Gina, are you sure?"

"And what would I have done with her, Sheriff? Baked her in my oversized oven and eaten her for breakfast?"

"This is not a joke, Gina. She needs assistance. She needs her parents, she needs a doctor. If you've seen her, please let me know_"  
"And why would I have seen her?"

"Her car was smashed against a rock near the Toll Bridge. You're the only one that lives out here and I know that you were in town the day she disappeared."

"Just what are you accusing me off, Sheriff? Running a perfect stranger off the road and then what? Killing her for sport?"  
"That's not what I said. Can you keep your voice down?"

"No! What are you afraid of? Someone might hear the level of familiarity and start asking questions?"

"No, come on, Gina…"  
"Ms Mills. Ms Fucking Mills for you, Sheriff."

"Gina."

The slap rang in Regina's ears and for a second she was both horrified at the violence she was capable of and terrified- Graham had at least eight solid inches on her and a wall of muscle for a body but she didn't step back. His hand went to his cheek and she flinched involuntarily. He was Leopold standing in front of her and it took her a second to push the image away, enough to have Graham see the terror in her eyes. He was the one who stepped back.

"Ms Mills… If you have seen this girl, you need to know that she's used to manipulating her away around things to get what she wants…"

It was the anger that made Regina hold her tongue.

"I'll be sure to let you know, Sheriff."

"Just be careful… Ms Mills. She's… huh… crafty… You can end up hurt."

"Good day, Sheriff."

"Gina_"

"Good day, Sheriff."

"Yeah… I'll see you around."

Regina couldn't move. Graham plodded to the car with none of his wolfish grace and closed the door. The sound reverberated through the landscape, or maybe it was only in her ears and still she couldn't move. The car inched down the access path and still she remained there, holding on to the logs for the fireplace.

… … …

Emma tried to get up but couldn't find purchase to do so. The gold in her pocket, the money, the credit card all weighed her down. She'd had stopped understanding what Regina had told the sheriff. The only thing she knew was that Regina had been screaming and she wanted to go here and stand between her and the sheriff because whatever there was between them it still hurt Regina and she could hear it in the hitch in her voice. And then her back was killing her, that damned low grade pain had been going on for almost two days now, peppered for fun with painful spasms that felt like knives stabbing her. The Sheriff was right. She was in trouble. He'd traced her this far. She was in deep shit. Even more than this snow that didn't let her get up, slippery, sliding under her freezing wet trainers.

She wanted to cry out for Regina. If she did, soon she'd be in bed, with a warm water bottle on her feet and a cup of warm powdered milk and maybe she could get going tomorrow. Maybe she could have just one more night of this before it all went to hell, before she had to be alone again. Maybe she could go in and put everything back and just crawl to Regina's side and be there until the warmth returned and the fear went away.

Again, she tried to stand up. Slowly this time, placing her hands strategically in front of her and sticking her foot in the compact, glass-like snow for purchase. She concentrated on the movement of her muscles, on the balance and she stood up, curled into a ball, uncurling as she went up.

She moaned when a wave of pain hit again, starting at the small of her back and tightening like a belt around her belly. _No_, Emma told herself. Absolutely not. Too early. This was just nerves. Just nerves. She straightened her back and her arms. _See? Just nerves._

All it took was a second to understand that she was in fact in trouble: one more wave of pain, one more tightening around her belly that left her breathless and brought her to her knees. "Oh, fuck" she moaned softly as sweat pearled her forehead. "Oh holy fuck."

… … …

Regina walked into the house and immediately knew that things had changed. She dropped the logs where they belonged, by the fireplace, with no ceremony or care. She called out for Emma but all she saw was the drawer in the cabinet open. She opened it fully and her credit card was gone. The jewelry was gone too. She ran up the stairs and looked for Emma in the bathroom and in the bedroom. The drawer where she kept the cash was open too, the cash missing. And it broke her heart that Emma would have proven Graham right like this. She pushed away at a tear that insisted on falling. She sat down in bed. Emma had left the soft wool pajama there and she grabbed it and folded it as if, just because Emma was gone, her life would be exactly as it had been, empty and cold and organized. She went down the stairs to the kitchen. Everything was fine. Everything was exactly like a week ago. Except there was no Emma. No sign of Emma. No baby blanket, no old shoes, no parka. It was as if she'd dreamt the whole thing. Except she hadn't.

She went out the door of the kitchen and scanned the landscape. The icy snow didn't take footprints, not like fresh snow but if she'd been Emma, that Emma that was so worried about her calling the Sheriff in the beginning, then she'd have gone out through the shortest way to the cover of the trees. Regina entertained the thought of following Emma, of confronting her. Getting her stuff back. She would have… whatever Emma had asked for, she'd have…

She heard a soft moan, something pained and miserable and she was off, not a worry about closing the door, only about not falling down. She heard a soft curse and quickened her careful steps. "Emma!" She called out softly just in case Graham had lagged behind. "Emma!"

… … …

Emma had heard Regina calling out for her and was torn between relief and horror. She pawed at the goods in her pocket and thought she might just hide them in the snow, dump them behind and never think about it again as if she'd never done anything wrong. If Regina found out, at best, she'd put her in a car and drive to town to dump her there. Maybe at the Sheriff station for good measure. Then, all there was, was pain again and all she could do was to hang on. "Come on kid, not now, please, please, not now."

She panted through the rest of the wave of pain and tried to get up. Whatever was going to happen, it could not happen here. But her legs were shaky and couldn't find purchase to move forward. "Emma!" She looked up and all she had time to think was that she would be a disappointment to Regina too like she had been for everybody else. She looked up from her position on the floor and tried to apologize right from the beginning. "I'm sorry."  
"Are you okay?" Regina's voice trembled wildly. "Let me help you. Come on, Emma, let's get you up."

"I'm not sure I can… I'm so sorry, Regina…"

"Of course you can. Come on, give me your arm." Regina stood next to Emma and put the girl's arm over her shoulder. "Come on, up we get."

They were up, that much was true. But then Emma felt a rush of warmth down her legs and she knew for a fact that she was in deep, deep shit and she didn't even have to explain because the look Regina's face was equally terrified.

"It's too early for him…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: **I'm sorry I missed you guys last night. See, life does get in the way.

Much love to you all.

Jane

Chapter 9

Regina helped Emma straighten up and walk towards the shed sheltering the car. Emma dug her frozen feet into the ice packed snow. "Where are we going?"

"Town." Regina's voice shook and Emma knew, even through the fog of panic how much the woman hated the thought of going into town, of doing anything there. It matched hers thoroughly.

"No. No, I'm not going. You can't take me there. No, no, no. I'm sorry, Regina, I'll give it all back, I promise, please, don't send me back!"

"Emma!" Regina stopped and turned Emma to her, nose to nose. "You're having a baby. You need to go into hospital where you can do so safely."  
"I'm not having a baby."

Regina stopped short, disbelief and frustration coloring her features. "Emma!"

"I swear, I'm not having the baby now, please, don't…"

"Emma… I don't… Jesus, Emma… Look at you! You need to go and you need to go now!"  
"I'll make it up to you, I swear. I'll work for you or whatever, I'll give it all back. I'll_" Regina held her up as another painful spasm gripped Emma and made her lose her breath. "Just don't. I know it's a lot to ask but trust me… Please."

"Emma…"  
"I know you can't. Not after what I did but… If you take me there, they'll take Ripley from me. I'll never see him again…"

"You're right, Emma. I don't trust you right now. All I know is that you're a child and you're having a baby and I have absolutely no qualifications that allow me to help you deliver the baby safely and I've had enough death around me. I have enough blood on my hands and I have to live with it every day and I can't have any more."

"You won't have any more, I swear. I swear."  
"You're working yourself up, Emma and that is just going to make it all take longer…"

"Good!"

"What do you mean?"

"Listen_" Emma panted through another contraction. This was not good. Not good at all.

"Give me a good reason, Emma. Why are you being this stubborn?"

"In the house. I'll tell you inside."  
"You'll tell me in the car and I will do whatever I can to help you and your baby."  
"You can't do anything to help us, Regina. Mr. Gold will simply get my baby from me. He's too powerful, knows too many people. He'll get my baby and send me to jail and I will never see my baby again."

"No, he won't. No one can do that."

"He can. He swore to it. And he never breaks a promise. Please! Please, Regina."

… … …

She had to be out of her mind. Absolutely out of her mind. _What do you even know about delivering a baby?_ She asked herself. Nothing, she knew absolutely nothing. She'd always refused to watch child birth videos, to read birth scenes in books and she closed her eyes when it happened in movies. What was the point? She'd never have her own babies. It just was the kind of torture she'd never been willing to put herself through. She'd watched the birth of a horse once, on TV, and had been reduced to a puddle of tears and emotions she couldn't understand. What was she going to do now? The only reasonable course of action was to call a doctor. To call Dr Whale and… and what? Persuade him to come? Thank you for coming, Dr, this way please? He wouldn't. Not to her place. _God forbid your life is ever in my hands, Mrs. Blanchard, _he'd said all those years ago while he reset her shoulder. Her father had died already. Would that have been enough payment for his sensibilities? And would he be quiet about the birth? Everybody owed Mr. Gold, it seemed. Her father certainly had. _God, Emma, what mess are you in?_

And yet, here she was, walking Emma into the house, having not the first clue about what to do. Boil water. That's what they did in the old movies. And then do what with it? Dunk her head in it and drown, that's what.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help you…"

"Google?" Emma laughed at her own solution, but it was a pained, tight smile.

"Oh, now you're laughing!"

"You're not taking me back. That's all I need. It's going to be okay, Regina, I promise. I'm not going to fuck this up, I swear to you."

"You really need to mind your language from now on, you know? Ripley will pick up on it. He'll think it's okay language…"

"I promise. Can we stop for a second?"

"Why?" The answer, though, was clear when Emma gritted her teeth and moaned.

"Here, just hold on to me. Google would be good now."

A twinge of shame hit Emma then. No phones, no internet. And she'd unplugged those. She started walking towards the house when the pain subsided. "Regina, I… I unplugged the phones. They've been working for a while now. I'm so sorry."

Regina adjusted her hold around Emma. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know that too."

… … …

They made it into the house after one more stop. Regina kicked the kitchen door shut with a kick and helped Emma into the sofa. Then, she went frantic. She plugged in the phone and got her computer. No power meant no modem, she reasoned. She wanted to bang her head against the wall.

No power, no modem.

Dial up. There was always dial up. Old school, but it should work. _Should._ She hoped. She only hoped the laptop would have any battery left for this.

The first few moments were of horrifying fiddling with the settings of the internet which she was no expert at. Mostly just trial and error while she prayed for the battery to hold on. When she finally got a patchy, slow connection, she huffed in relief.

Then she hit a mental blank wall. "What do I Google? Emma? What do I Google?"

Emma was busy with another contraction. "Fucking contractions?" She huffed when got her breath back.

"Birth? Childbirth?"

"Sure…"

Regina hit the keys nearly banging them out of the laptop. "Should this be so fast, so intense right from the beginning?"

"No. I don't know. What do I know, Regina? I'm seventeen. Fuck, Regina, I'm seventeen and I'm having a baby and I don't even know what I'm doing…"

Regina scrambled to Emma and pulled her into a hug. "You're almost eighteen. It's going to be okay. You'll do this and then you'll be a wonderful mom."

"Yeah?"

"I'm absolutely sure."

The results page took an astonishing minute to cough up a few million results. Why would this be easy? Regina scrolled through the page mentally eliminating ads and sponsored links. She concentrated on hospitals and birth clubs. People actually had birth clubs… She looked at Emma and considered the price of admission. "Stages of labor?"

"Yeah… with pictures, please."

"Are you sure about that?"

"It helps me concentrate."

Regina tried the first link that promised a video. Whatever it was, took so long to load the first few frames that Emma was again gripping the sofa through another contraction. _Screw it!_ Regina thought and went to a site that looked a lot more scientific. A lot of text too, so less pictures. She considered her options: the laptop had about 30 minutes worth of battery. Which mean she had thirty minutes in which to learn all she could about birth and how to keep a mother and premature baby alive on her own. She carved her nails into her palms and tried her hardest not to panic. She read through the first entry, the stages of labor and the then went through each detailed explanation of the different stages, the signs of labor and delivery. Care for a new born. It all felt like a blur that she couldn't hold onto because Emma was moaning intermittently and all she wanted to do was to let go and sit with her, comfort her. How could a child go through this?

The battery warning came on screen and blinked. She ignored it and read more and more. Keep calm, it said. In an emergency, keep calm. Easy for them to say. Keep the baby warm. Go to a hospital as soon as possible.

And pray, she added to herself, because if any of the horrendous complicated deliveries was what Emma was looking at, a breach birth or wrapped cord or any of that, Regina was quite sure they would all die here.

Keep calm.

Keep calm.

Breathe.

Keep calm. Okay.

The computer died and then all she could do was face the music and dance.

"So… do we boil water now or later?" Emma asked with a smile braver than her voice.

"What?" Regina took a moment to panic. She hadn't seen anything about boiling water anywhere. "What's the boiling water for?"

"Joking!"

"Emma! Don't joke. Please don't. I'm a nervous wreck!" Emma looked anything but contrite. "Do you think you'd like to go upstairs? To bed?"

"Yeah… I'd like that. My back hurts."

"Okay… Alright. One step at a time."

… …. ….

Emma got into a shower that was only lukewarm. Regina ran to the boiler in the kitchen and added wood by the armful. Okay. This was good. This was doing.

Then she climbed the stairs again and made the bed fresh, because it felt like the appropriate thing to do. The farmer on the TV documentary had laid out fresh hay for the foal to be born in. She could do that. Which was good.

She checked on Emma. Warm water was good. Slowed down the pain. Regina tried hard to remember what she'd read but this was like a bad dream where you wake up during finals without having studied a line.

God, if only she could think. Calm. Keep calm. Calm is essential during the birth. Emma seemed calm enough now that they were not going anywhere. She might as well follow that lead. Keep calm. She changed her clothes too. She'd been outside and all but rolled about in those clothes. She needed to get clean.

Emma came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Regina hunted around for appropriate clothes to give birth in. She settled for a light, oversized sweater, a keepsake from her _Daniel days_ when she'd gone to games and sports events and cheered on him.

She helped Emma into it, expecting the old familiar sadness that used to wrap itself around her like a hug, but was surprised with the single thought at the sight of it: Emma looked so small in it.

"So… this is really happening, huh?"

"So it seems, Emma."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm terrified."

"Yeah… me too. I'm sorry, you know? About the money and the jewels. The card. I'm really sorry."

"Why did you…" She opened the bed and Emma climbed in, laying on her side. Regina sat behind her and rubbed the small of her back. It elicited a moan of relief from Emma.

"You were talking to the Sheriff…"

"I didn't tell him anything."

"I was scared. I needed money to get out of here."

"I would have given it to you. I would have taken you myself. If only you'd tell me what you're so afraid of."

"You're too scared to leave this place. Your dead have you by the chain on your feet."

"Why do you want to leave? Who's after you?"

"Regina…"

"Please, Emma. You asked me trust you. I am. Here we are. But..."

"What did the Sheriff tell you?"

"That your parents are looking for you."

"No parents, remember?" She was interrupted by another contraction. She held her breath and tried to wait it out. Regina pulled her hand away as if she'd been burnt. "Please, don't stop, Regina, that helps. Please…"

Regina nodded until she remembered that Emma couldn't see her. "Okay." She got back to massaging Emma's back. "Okay. But… I think you have to breathe. Don't hold your breath. Just breathe through it."

"Easy for you to say…"

"I know…"

"Sorry… being a bitch now. Sorry. I'll breathe, I promise."  
"Yeah… It said to relax. To work with it. Not against it."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know… But it seems slower now, huh?"

"Yeah… is that good?"

"Does it hurt less?"

"No. It hurts less often…"

"Let's hope it's good…" Regina waited for a beat, hoping Emma would continue. "So…" She prompted when Emma didn't. "Who's looking for you then? Is Mr. Gold not your father?"

"Fuck no! Do you know him?"

"I told you that Daddy gambled… He gambled a lot with money we didn't have. With money that we couldn't afford."

"And still he played?"

"And still he played."  
"Shit…"

"Quite."

"Who did he owe?"

"Storybrooke is a small place…"

"Is that how you know Mr. Gold?"

"Of him. I know of him. I know that he's not a man to be trifled with. So please, Emma, please tell me what kind of deal you have with him." The urgency of the words was somewhat soothed by the circles in Emma's back.

This time she could feel the onset of a contraction and she searched for Regina's hand.

"Breathe… breathe, Emma."

With Regina's coaching, it was easy to remember, easier to breathe. Less scary too, with their fingers clasped tightly. She knew she was squeezing painfully hard, but Regina just let her hold on.

"No deal." Emma panted. "No deal at all. I was just really stupid." Emma touched her belly gingerly, afraid it might hurt just to touch. When it felt relatively safe, she spread her hand and smoothed the skin with gentle fingers. "No regrets. I always thought there was no point to regrets. Can't change anything. Like huh… indigestion of the soul… Shit just repeats on you, you know? And I don't regret anything that gave me Ripley. But I regret coming to Storybrooke. I regret coming to find Neal. I wanted to come here and show him what his love felt like…"

"Emma… I… just tell me that you don't have any deal with Gold. I don't need anything else. I trust you."

"I don't have any deal with Gold. I had one with his son, though. Neal."

"Ripley's dad is Gold's son?"

"He's not the kid's dad. I told you that. He's the back seat of a car… that's all. But it took me a while to catch up… too long. And now, Gold thinks that he's entitled."

"What was the deal? With Neal, I mean…"

"Honor among thieves."

"As in, _there's none_?"

"I'm seventeen. Do you think that excuses stupidity? I trusted him. We were in this together. Bonnie and Clyde, you know? It was great. I had everything I could ever wish for. We got the car. We slept in nice hotels, ate good food. But the deal was, we trust each other completely. No one else. We were the only two peas in the pod.

"We had this perfect life going on… everything was turning out roses. But nothing good lasts. I got pregnant. He freaked out. We couldn't take care of a kid. We were always on the road, we couldn't take care of a kid. So, you know, 'maybe we should stay in a place for a while', I told him."

She had to stop for another contraction. Regina was there again reminding her to breathe, breathing in and out with her, moping the sweat from her brow.

"It really hurts…"

Emma's voice was so small it made Regina's chest hurt. "How can I help?"

"Don't leave me…"

"I won't. I'm right here…" This time it took longer for Emma to catch her breath. "I think I've figured it out..."

"What part of this mess?"

The attempt at brave front broke Regina's heart. "Why this is so fast… That back pain… you've had for about two days now."

"Yeah… Hurts like a bitch, too."

"You've been in labor for two days, Emma." Emma's sole reply was to pull Regina's hand to her hot forehead. "So… maybe that's good news. It can't take long now…"

"Hope so. Because I'm really not loving this part."

"Oh, Emma…"

"Yeah… It's going to be okay, though. Just a little longer, right?"

"Right… So what happened with settling down with Neal?"

"Neal… Neal was the guy with _the angle_. He always had a scheme, an angle. And he had me, you know, only a kid, no one suspects a white little girl that looks like an angel… so, he had these watches and he needed someone to go and fetch them for him. So I did. Because look at me… Who on earth would suspect me? Put a nice school uniform and a scared rabbit kind of look and grandmothers stop to buy me candy. Easy. So I went to get the watches. Shit was, police had eyes on 'em.

"They got me 'cause not everybody is stupid enough to trust me, and when they gave me my one phone call, I called him. Told him I was in trouble and needed him. I thought he was gonna be mad, 'cause I was no beginner and I should have spotted the eyes on the watches, but he just said _I love you baby and this is for the best. We can't have a kid on the road. I love you, Emms. No matter what happens, you gotta believe that._ 'Cause, you know, prison is a cozy place. He told me I wouldn't go to proper jail being a minor and all, but turns out, I did.

"You were in jail?"

Emma only nodded. Regina wasn't sure if the blush she saw on Emma's cheeks was shame or the onset of another contraction. Emma gripped her hand and squeezed through the pain. Regina felt her hand bent at an awkward shape but didn't pull back. There wasn't much more she could give by way of comfort.

Maybe they should time the contractions. Not that they had anywhere they had to be or a doctor they had to report to but it wouldn't hurt. And it would keep her mind occupied. She looked at the alarm clock next to the bed and started timing them.

"Yeah…" Emma continued still out of breath. "And lemme tell you, I was lucky. Cushy place… good cell mate, no one too desperate to make me their bitch, one or two nice guards. Believe me, that's the same as winning the big lottery jackpot. But the only thing I wanted was to get Neal to explain to me why I was going to have a baby in jail. I called him every week for four months and he never picked up. So I made friends with this girl who had a couple shifts in the laundry. That was no Fort Knox. So one day, I just got tired of waiting for Neal to call, for Neal to come and rescue me and I decided to rescue myself. I got out. Used the laundry girl connection and left. If I'd waited, this would be happing in jail. And they wouldn't let me keep him. You tell me, Regina, what kind of father does that to his kid?"

Regina offered what little comfort she could. She ran her fingers down Emma's sweaty hair. "It took me a few weeks but I found him. I find shit easy, you know? Kind of a skill I have... I found him here and I came after him. I swear, the only thing I wanted was to punch him in the balls. Give him an easy prophylactic. But then, he ghosted and Gold got interested."

In truth, Regina could not imagine Gold with a grandchild. The man had the permanent frown of someone whose life is utter misery. Certainly, what she knew of him was of a man without a compassionate bone in his body. Someone terrifying.

"His son left me in jail to rot. And then daddy dearest comes along thinking I'm a cow just so that his son can prove how macho he is. He wants my baby, Regina, because they're kin. He wants to replace his son, or to get a second chance, I don't know, maybe a do over. Neal told me enough shit that I'd believe that even from that lying sack of shit. But he wants that second chance with my kid because his stallion son planted a seed in me and he thinks he's entitled to harvest. No matter what. Neal doesn't give a shit, he's off in the wind and I am so dumb I came here looking for him and falling into the hands of his family. I'm still waiting for the chance to show Neal what his love feels like." The last few words were slurred through gritted teeth, in the throes of a contraction.

Regina looked at the clock. It seemed to her they were getting closer. Three minutes. She waited for the pattern, for the repetition. Maybe there was still time to get to Storybrooke. If the roads were not so glazed in black ice, she'd have insisted more firmly, that was for sure, because seeing Emma in agony was torture. She wanted to do something, anything that would alleviate the pain and she had nothing, not even words.

"You're thinking again. I can hear it from here. What are you thinking about?"

"You're not going to like it…"

Emma smiled. "You want to take me to a hospital." Regina nodded. "Because you're scared."

"I am, yes."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to fuck it up, I swear."

"Emma…"  
"Don't worry so much. Women have been doing this forever."

"That's very abstract. Neither you nor I have ever done this before. The potential for_"  
"Don't say it. Don't bring bad vibes. It's going to be okay. Just hold the thought."

"Hold the thought, she says…"

"Yeah. Besides, you said it yourself: It can't take much longer."

"Your contractions are about 3 minutes apart. They should be coming one on top of the other before it's time to... you know… push."

"Jeez, sugarcoat it, will you? You mean it's gonna get worse."

Regina was quiet for second. "Faster. It's going to get faster."

"Did I tell you you're really pretty when you get frustrated at me?"

"No…"  
"Well… you are. Really pretty."

Regina harrumphed. How did Emma do this to her? This flustering and blushing? "It's just a matter of time. Before you know it, they will be coming one on top of the other and then it's going to be time to push."

"Did you read that?"

"I did."

"That's good. We can do this. We just need time to pass quick, right?"  
"We do, yes."

"Tell me a story."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Help time go faster. Tit for tat? I told you my story. Will you tell me yours? I showed you my tat now you show me your_" But she didn't finish.

"Breathe…" And again Regina breathed in and out with her, ostensibly demonstrating, and still holding her hand.

"It was stupid anyway, right? My mouth always gets me in trouble."

Two minutes.

Two minutes. They were approaching crunch time and Regina's hands were frozen with fear.

"I like that about you. I think. Most of the times."

"You like to see me getting in trouble?"

Regina nodded. "I do."

"The tit for tat thing?"

"I've told you all my stories, Emma, all my sins. Quite frankly, I'm shocked you stayed all this time knowing all those stories."

"As opposed to run screaming for the hills? You're my angel, Regina."

"I'm no angel, Emma. My hands are covered in blood. Daniel's, Daddy's. Leopold's. No use pretending."

"Daniel's?"

"Someone messed with the brakes. No one ever proved anything but…"

"Did you do it?"

"No!"

"Chill, I know that. But you take the blame for every other person so… Why do you have his blood on your hands?"

"The car was not that old, Emma."

Emma nodded sagely. "But you haven't told me everything."

"I haven't?"

"No."

"What else would you like to know?"

"Why don't you go into town?"

"I do."

"That's where you were coming from the day we met?"

"It was."

"It was nine. In the morning. You had your car loaded with groceries. What time were you there? Five am?"

"Eight. The shop opens at eight."

"Must be crowded at that time…" Emma waited for a beat, expecting Regina to fill in the blanks. The wait was cut short by another contraction that left her panting. "Make it a good story, Regina, please, make it a really good story…"

Regina felt the knot in her throat tighten and her breathing becoming painful. This time, she held on to Emma's hand. "I'm not welcome in Storybrooke. Mary Margaret believes that I am evil incarnate. And maybe she's right. I killed her father. I let it happen in front of me. I killed my father too. And Daniel. So I've decided that eight am is a good time for me to go to the store. The only resident around is the storekeeper and he doesn't make much of a fuss. I guess my money is as good as any…"

"So they ran you out of town."

"No… I mean…"

Emma just gave her a pained look that brokered no argument. "What about the Sheriff? I heard his voice. His tone. That guy would take you under his wing fast enough… What's the story with him?"

Emma moved uncomfortably on the bed and groaned, a sound from deep in her chest. Had it been two minutes already?

"I don't think I can do this, Regina… I'm sorry… I just… I can't…" Tears sprang from her eyes, big and furious. "Shit… I'm sorry…" But the more she tried to stop, the more the tears free flowed down her face. Lost for what to do, Regina lay down behind Emma, slid her arm under Emma's neck and the other over Emma's chest, letting her hands meet over Emma's heart.

"It's alright, let's take a minute. A minute to be scared, okay?"

"Yeah… I'm sorry… I think I lied. I told you I wasn't gonna fuck it up, but I already did, didn't I?"  
"No. You're doing great. You're amazing and everything is going to be okay. You promised. And I believe you. I believe you, alright?"

"Are you scared too?"

"I am. I'm terrified. But in a minute we'll be brave again."

"Okay…" Emma sniffled and then the sniffles became dry sobs and then her body convulsed again. Regina felt the ripple of the muscles under her arm and just held tighter. "Breathe…"

Emma took big lungfuls of air until her body settled down. "Graham… what's the story?"

"There's no story…"

"And I'm a bald monkey!"

Regina sighed deeply. "I told you I'm no angel. But you just want proof… and you won't stop until I disgust you so much that_"

"I know you. Regina, I know you. Just tell me the story…"

"He was Daniel's friend… when we hung out, he tagged along. When we made plans to marry, he was going to throw the best bachelor party. And then, it was all over. That was not my life any more. None of us went to college… Daniel died, I got married, Graham stayed around. I don't think he wanted to go anywhere without Daniel. He started helping at the Sheriff's station, then he got his Deputy badge. And when the old Sheriff retired, he nominated Graham. Leopold didn't have an issue with that. Graham had loose ends, you know? His mother, his brother… Leopold liked people with loose ends… like me. Easier to… control…"

She felt another contraction through her arms around Emma. She stopped but Emma asked her through gritted teeth to carry on. "And then Mary Margaret went to some summer camp and Leopold got meaner and then he left marks. Mother was dead and so I just got dressed one day and went to the police station. I asked to speak to Graham and I showed him the marks. Not all of them. There were things my husband did that I couldn't… I couldn't stand the thought that someone might touch me again… But I think he knew. I thought I was hiding everything perfectly well but… I think he knew. He brought me a cup of coffee and he took a statement from me. And then Leopold's _aid_ came in and pulled Graham to the side and then took me by the arm and took me home."

"Let me guess: the statement never became a report…"

"No, it didn't. Leopold apologized and Graham sought me out to apologize too. Said he couldn't, because his mother and his brother something or other. I thought that it would get better, because Leopold apologized. But it didn't. And every time it happened, Graham came with a cup of coffee and sat with me and told me everything was going to be okay. But it wasn't, you know. I just thought that if I believed him it was better than not believing anything at all. So he kept on buying cups of coffee. So many cups of coffee." Emma squeezed her hand tight and that time it had nothing to do with labor. It was just Emma offering her comfort.

"One day, my husband pushed me against a wall to _see for himself_ that I had a lover. He… he checked thoroughly. Mary Margaret saw me having coffee with Graham and… Of course she went to daddy… And h hurt me... He hurt me so much… He hurt me and the locked me in the house for a while. Said that if I couldn't behave in public, I should not go out until I learned to behave like a wife. He let me out because people were talking… I went straight to Graham. I followed him to his place and I went in. I don't think he thought of me like that… I was the Mayor's wife and before that I was Daniel's girl, but I just stood there, naked and I asked him to please, please make love to me. So from that afternoon, yes, I did have a lover. So every time that Leopold asked me and I denied, every time he pressed me against a wall and put his fingers on me to check, I felt like I was fighting him back. It made me feel like I stood a chance of surviving him…"

"Did you love him? Did you love Graham?"

"At the time, I did. Not like a woman loves a man, I think, but like a bird loves the sky. He was my sky. He was nice to me. He let me come to him and pretend that I was just like all the other girls. He let me pretend to be in love and I think he may have pretended too, for my sake."

"But when he was here… It didn't…"

"I don't know what I expected… But when Leopold… when he died… I needed Graham to believe me. I needed him to… even though I did let him die, I needed him to believe me. I needed his blind faith. But the EMTs saw my shoulder. They saw my face and they called it. Gave it a name… Loud and clear. Which gave me motive. And then Mary Margaret came into the house and saw Graham sitting with me and her precious, precious father was dead and she jumped to next logical thing: I pushed her daddy down the stairs and Graham was my accomplice.

"I didn't push him. I sat there and I watched him die for hours, but I didn't push him. It's the same… but I didn't push him down the stairs. I swear…"

Another contraction racked through Emma and she screamed because she was distracted, unprepared. She wanted to tell Regina so much, about how she believed her, how she would have done the same. How she would have truly pushed him and stomped on his neck just to make sure, but the pain was rolling in waves through her and it was just taking too long, it wasn't giving her the break she needed.

And then it all moved. Her body took over and her legs opened, a need to push too impossible to resist. The only thing she could do was to hold onto Regina and cry because it was like being split in the middle and she was not at all sure she would ever be put back together. She had a sudden terrifying thought that she had nothing to offer the kid and what the hell was she even doing. That she should have taken the choice when they gave it to her at the prison of _terminating_.

But then Regina pilled pillows behind her and held her hand and she regained a modicum of strength, of purpose. Regina's voice was all she could hear through the strength rapidly seeping out of her. _Push, Emma_. Regina's voice was coming from a different place, a different planet, nothing but a distant echo, but she did as Regina told her simply because nothing bad could ever happen if she did as Regina said.

And then there was blessed relief and a baby's cry and the world picked up speed and sound and presence again. And it all sounded like triumph. Regina lifted a semi-bloodied, noisy, pink _thing_ and laid it on Emma's chest. Emma looked at the thing on top of her and for some reason, the weight on her chest settled the panic down and the thing became her son.

"It's a boy…" Regina told her cleaning her eyes and her nose with the back of her arm. "It's a boy."

Emma laughed because she was on the other side and she was not dead. "Told you…"

"Yes, you did." Regina spoke from somewhere over her, hovering above her. Like a dark angel. "Hi, baby… Welcome." Emma placed a tentative hand on the baby's back. "He does not look like a Ripley…"

"He doesn't?"

"I don't want to name him after a movie… no matter how cool." She grabbed Regina's hand. "Give him a name. Regina. Something real. Something meaningful…"

"Emma… I don't…"

"I wanted to ask you something else. Please." Regina's reply was to sooth Emma's hair and wipe her forehead of sweat. "If something happens… like, if something happens to me… he'll be on his own. I know you don't really know me but… If he needs you, will you take him in?"

Regina looked at her hands and considered the blood on them, willing and unwilling blood. How could she care for a child? How could she even promise to care for a child?

Emma raised her body from the pillows and gave Regina the scissors. "Cut the cord, Regina."  
With trembling hands, Regina did so. In a daze, she placed the scissors on the bed. Emma transferred the baby into Regina's arms. "Give him a good man's name."

Regina half kneeled next to Emma holding a new born baby in her arms thinking that life was, indeed the strangest, most heart-breaking thing and how she had no right to this.

"Henry? Henry is a good man's name."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Regina spent the first night awake, a million thoughts running at light speed through her addled brain. She and Emma had basked in the glory of a rosebud mouth and of ten fingers and ten toes all perfectly formed but then Emma's head had lolled to the side, her arm wrapped protectively around a Henry clad in mousseline diapers ripped from Regina's best shirts and wrapped in one more set of her lamb's wool pajamas. Except, Regina thought, that would not do. She had no more shirts to rip and babies needed clothes and a crib and blankets and soothers and andandand. Storybrooke was out of the question. If she went shopping for baby things with Emma missing, it would not take a very great leap to link the two things. And Augusta was just too far in icy roads. With no battery in the laptop, there was no chance to do any online shopping and that was a problem.

When the sun rose, she had the nearest to perfect solution and was on the phone without having slept a wink. Her eyes burnt and she was dog tired but still, sleep eluded her.

It took a while to persuade the woman on the telephone to have a suspiciously assorted and large order delivered to an address with special instructions that included woodland roads but Regina begged and the woman on the phone gave in. A delivery would come in by the end of the day- at an exorbitant urgent delivery fee- and bring all the items down to the last diaper.

Feeling victorious, a strange and exhilarating feeling in her, Regina marched into the kitchen and conjured up breakfast from meager supplies which promised a grocery run very, very soon and then ran back up the stairs. Because that was the only place she wanted to be- with her family.

… … …

The sun had gone down and the roads were dark and unfathomable and Regina was starting to doubt that the delivery truck would ever come when headlights shone in the darkness, illuminating the darkened roads. Without waking up Emma, she moved out of bed and went down to wait for the truck to arrive.

She poked at the dying fire on the fireplace and added more logs while the light approached slowly and cautiously. Her heart sang in relief: by the time the night came, they'd have clothes for Henry and a crib and all the things a child should have. Even a car seat. Because if there was one thing Regina knew in her heart it was that Emma would not stay for long. And when she left, Henry would have to be as safe as she could make him from a distance.

She stood when the lights illuminated the living room through the curtains and made her way to open the door. Normally, she would switch on the porch light to guide them, but they would have to work it out because the power was still down. And she would probably really have to go into town and petition Mary Margaret and though she felt about that as she would about pulling her own teeth with her fingers without anesthetic, they could not go on living in darkness just so that the Mayor could hammer her point home.

When she opened the door, it registered briefly that the vehicle was too small to be a delivery van and then Graham was greeting her.

"Hi Gina."

"Sheriff!" She hoped none of the immediate panic had laced her voice. "Twice in less than two days…"

Graham stopped haloed by the headlights shining intensely behind him, making him little more than an outline of a body Regina had begun to forget the shape of. "We left too long between visits…" Graham spoke softly and looked at the car.

"So this is a social visit?" Regina asked with panic slowly rising in her chest, squeezing at her throat with ice-burning fingers.

"Gina…" Graham nearly whispered, his face coming into view now that he was close enough. "It's not really…" Regina looked beyond him to the car trying to get a glimpse of whoever was in there. Whoever it was, she was fairly sure this was not good at all. She stared insistently at the car. She couldn't see who it was, but she was sure the person could see her clearly. "Are you going to introduce your travel companion, Sheriff?"

Graham looked mildly uncomfortable and looked back at the car. The passenger door opened and a man came out with some difficulty. When he walked, she could see a cane and something in her memories stirred up absolute fear.

"Good evening, Mrs. Blanchard." The man punctuated her married name with a thump of the cane on the iced ground.

"Ms Mills."

"Ah, yes, yes, of course! Forgive me, Ms Mills" The toned suggested insult, not apology.

"I have not been Blanchard for a very long time."

The man lowered his head in acknowledgment but made no further comment. Silence hung heavy over the trio until the man looked up at the window of the bedroom. It was an insistent study and it took all Regina had not to run into the house locking all doors behind her.

"I assume, Sheriff, you have a good reason to come to my property uninvited. I have a feeling it's not to reconnect the power."

"Gina_ Ms Mills… Mr. Gold here, he is looking for his daughter."

"Another runaway, Sheriff? Could it be something in the water in Storybrooke? Or are you accusing of abducting girls for a living now?"

Graham prepared to interject but the man spoke at the same time and Graham went silent. "Forgive me, Ms Mills. I am but a concerned parent. The Sheriff has been so kind as to let me accompany him in his investigation. Do you have children, Ms Mills?"

Regina was fairly sure that was not a question but an insult. Again. "No, I don't."

"The problem with children, Ms Mills, is that when they grow up, the worries multiply. Emma, she's a troubled soul. I have lived in worry since she was old enough to attend school."

"Mr Gold. I truly sympathize with your plight but I fail to see how I can help."

"Emma is pregnant. She is so young and she is about to have one of her own. But for all her wiles, she needs her family. She needs medical care, for herself and the young one. She is my kin, Ms Mills, but I have had nothing but heartache from that child. She…" He put his hand over his heart. "She needs medical assistance of various sorts. She needs to keep seeing Dr Hopper. I believe you're familiar with the name. She needs to see him if she's ever to be healthy… Since my wife's death, Emma has been troubled. Deeply troubled. This pregnancy... well… This is just the tip of the iceberg. On my beloved wife's soul, Ms Mills, Emma lies and manipulates. And she doesn't hesitate in doing whatever else is needed to get her own way. And I know, Ms Mills, because I've done the same, that there is nothing she doesn't ask, in that way that she asks, that I haven't done for her. I have indulged her in every way. I have fallen for every single one of her manipulations and I… well… I can only promise you to make good on whatever she cost you. Whatever she's cost you- money, jewels… I'll gladly make good on those losses."

Regina squeezed her hands in her pockets. _Shut up_, she told herself. _Just shut the hell up. Ask Emma. Ask Emma. How could you be so stupid?_ Her whole body hurt. Involuntarily, her hand went to her shoulder that still hurt after eight years. "Mr. Gold. I told you, I am sympathetic to your plight, but I don't know how to help you."

"Ms Mills," Graham interfered. "We found her car by the Toll Bridge. This is the closest place to that spot."

"You've mentioned that before, Sheriff and I'm sure it is. But even if the young lady did come this way... You are aware that I- and this place- have a certain reputation in town. I don't think anyone, no matter how troubled they were, would willingly come here, to me, to ask for help." She rubbed at her shoulder again, the pain something like a knife ripping through bone, flesh and skin.

"That's unfortunate." Mr. Gold commiserated. "Would you be so kind as to call the good Sheriff were you to come across my kin?"

"Mr. Gold, regrettably, I have more important issues to resolve than to be on the lookout for runways." She looked directly at Graham this time. "Such as restoring the power to my property. Such as clearing a path through the ice which will stay until August if I don't do it myself, so I wish you the best of luck and a good night."

How much trouble would she be in if the delivery truck came in now? She was lying to the Sheriff for someone who was trying to manipulate her from the beginning. How much trouble would she be in were the baby to wake up and cry at that moment? Kidnapping would probably be the least of the criminal charges.

But Graham seemed to have a god-sent good sense and turned on his heel to go into the car. Gold spared another long gaze at the bedroom window before he too said his goodbyes and limped towards the car.

Regina leaned against the wall watching them leave and wondering if this would be a good time to take up smoking.

… … …

An hour later, the delivery truck had not yet arrived. Which was probably good, because it gave Regina time to settle her nerves. She'd had time to stand against the door frame in the bedroom and watch Emma sleep. She wondered whether Emma would ever even consider hurting her to get what she wanted. If she was the nightmare of Gold's description. She was hiding Emma and doing her best to believe her but she knew as much about this girl as she knew about Gold, so why trust her instead of the fragile old man that had been at her door asking for help to find his daughter. He looked so much like what her father would have done for her. She was basing this trust on Emma on what?

On what exactly?

On the beat of her heart?

"You're thinking again!" Emma had mumbled with mirth. "You think really loudly."

"I'm sorry." Regina had replied distracted. "How do you feel?"

"Don't know… tired? Sore? Happy? It's just too much going on now…"

Regina moved into the room and sat on the bed, close enough to touch Henry, his miniscule foot, his tiny perfect hand. Right here was all that she'd ever wanted and, of course, she was going to lose it all too soon. One way or another.

Emma's hand found hers over the baby. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I'm sleepy, not stupid, Regina."

Regina merely nodded, her throat closing, closing. She wanted nothing more than to believe Emma, believe her wholeheartedly. She wished the voice at the back of her head that called her manners of stupid would shut up. It just didn't.

They saw the lights before they even heard the rumble of the truck. Emma sat on the bed and moaned as her sore body complained. "It's a car. Is anyone coming over? Regina, did you call anyone?"

It hurt Regina to see the panic written all over Emma's tired face. She moved out of the bed, wanting to stand between Emma and whoever was coming and went down to see for herself that it was not the Sheriff again. When the lights stopped near the cabin, Regina was relieved to see a man built like a bear- and smelling like one too- getting out of the truck swearing and cursing in very creative way. "You R'gina Mills?"

"Yes, Sir, I am."

The small deference seemed to placate the man slash bear. "Got a delivery for y'a."

"Thank you. Thank you for coming out in this weather."

"Let's just get on with it, I s'pose. I'd like to go home before going back to work tomorrow."

Regina was lost for words. The man seemed to be content doing the unloading and dropping it off on the porch but not a step further. She tried to help but on the darkened ice in the dark night, it was a miserable task. "Don't worry 'bout it. It'll go faster if you're not in the way of it."

Regina trudged back to the porch and waited for the unloading of the bags to finish. "How many kids did the stork leave on your porch?" The man mumbled when he carted in the last of the packs of diapers.

Regina made no comment. When the man finished, she gave him a tip that had him looking at her, eyes wide. "You know you already paid for this, yeah?"

"Indeed. But you're the one out here tonight. Thank you."

The man looked at the items on the porch and made a move to get them in. "Maybe I should help you with these inside."

"No!" It was too fast. _Slow down._ "You should go. It's a small place. I can kick them from here to the other end."

The man studied her carefully, then pocketed the money. "Alright. If you need more of these, just ask for Lawrence."

"Thank you, Lawrence. I will. Drive safely."

The driver looked around himself and the cabin seeming to take it in seriously. "This is far from everything. You not scared of…"

"Big bad wolves? There aren't any around here."

"Wasn't talkin' about wolves… Sometimes, evil is looking you right in the face and it looks pretty, you know what I mean?"

… … …

When the last of the light of the truck disappeared down the road, Regina looked around herself. There were packets and cardboard boxes and cardboard packages and a baby car seat wrapped in thick plastic and it looked a lot like chaos except it made her happy to be able to provide for her family. And god, she had a family now. She had a family and maybe they would not be hers for long, hers to keep, but they were hers right now and her heart soared. It had been more than eighteen years since she had felt like this, like she had something good in her, something to offer. Something that someone else might want to keep and cherish.

She left it all where it stood because for some reason, she still wanted Emma to see it all, to open it all. To feel… to feel… Unable to complete the thought, Regina mounted the steps taking her time, trying to understand what she wanted from all of this.

The light in the room was still off. She was sure she'd left matches and candles enough and she went in feeling her way around. She struck a match and lit a candle thinking that Emma would have fallen asleep again. She had to be exhausted. But as the light filled the darkness of the room, the bed was empty. No Emma, no Henry. Not a sign of them. "Emma" she called but her voice didn't even come, so tight was her throat. "Emma?" She tried again even though she was sure there was no one in the small bedroom. She opened the door to the bathroom and walked in, shedding the meager light from the candle. There was no one in the bathroom either.

She thought of all the pieces of her heart scattered around her living room like baby things still in their packaging, refused, discarded and unwanted.

You can't trust happiness.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Angry tears sprang to her eyes. She had known they were not hers to keep. She had known that all along. She's just expected a little more time, that was all. And still she was angry. Her fists bunched at her side and she wrapped her heart in anger to shore the crumbling pieces of it. And then she heard a muffled sob from the tub. She pulled the plastic curtain to the side and Emma was crouching inside with the baby in her arms, looking terror stricken, chin wobbling, eyes filled to the brim. "Oh, my god, Emma, what are you doing here?" The anger just melted away. Despite her best efforts.

"Who is it? Is he here for us? Did you tell him about Henry?"

"Emma_"

"Did you call the cops? You promised you wouldn't. You promised!"

"I didn't. Emma, there's no one here. We have a delivery downstairs. I got a few things for the baby. He needs things… stuff. He needs diapers and things and I… It was the delivery man. Lawrence. The delivery man." Where was the anger when she needed it?

Her own eyes were now threatening to overflow: in relief, in sorrow, in fear, in hope.

"You didn't tell me. It scared me. You scared me so much…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't… I just… You were asleep when I ordered things and you needed the rest… I'll bring it up. I…"

"Can you… d'you think you can help me out?" Regina took Henry from Emma and cradled him in her arms carefully before she helped Emma up. "I'm sorry… nothing works properly." Emma apologized, sniffling and wiping her nose with her cuff. "I'm sorry."

Regina stared at the baby in her arms, the perfect little face. "I thought you'd left. I thought you'd left again…" No, she couldn't hold on to anger if her life depended on it.

"I wanted to. When I thought the cops were here and they were going to take me back, that they were going to take Henry from me, I wanted to leave. I was leaving… I just didn't get very far."

"I wouldn't… Emma, I wouldn't call anyone. Please, trust me… I wouldn't."

"I don't… I mean… I don't know how to. The only guy I trusted made sure I never would again…"

Regina felt hate bubbling in her gut. Emma was right. She should show Neal what his love felt like.

"Come downstairs." She breathed Henry's sent in. It settled her, soothed her anxiety. "I got Henry some diapers."

… … …

Power returned to the cabin like magic when Emma was half way through exploring Regina's shopping spree. The light in the kitchen came on and startled them.

Regina shrunk into the sofa with Henry in her arms. This had Gold written all over it. Gold was a small, low key man but everyone in town had dealings with him that involved favors to be paid sooner or later. It struck fear in her to know that he had collected on someone and in the process ensured that she owed him too.

"Look at that… the power came back. Isn't it a weird time for power line repairs?"

It would have been, except Regina had a feeling that the lines had been repaired a long time ago, but that the power had been deliberately not restored. Mary Margaret was still punishing her in every way she could. Petty? Yes. But, Regina considered with a distracted hum of agreement, had the situation been reversed, she would have gone to the ends of the earth to make sure she hurt Mary Margaret. And there was no telling when she'd finally feel vindicated. She could, after all, hold onto resentment like few. Except with Emma, it seemed.

"Regina, I'm trying hard not to panic here… They kept you without power for so long… switching it back on now, after the Sheriff was here… what does it mean?"

"Whatever they think it means, Emma, is not what it is. I promise you."

"There's no such thing as a free meal, Regina. There is always a price."

At first, Regina was angry. "Is that why you slept with me, Emma? To pay your way around?" But then, there was only sadness. Something unbearably heavy. "I never asked you for payment. I never asked you for anything."

"Oh, God, Regina, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant, you know that!"

"No, Emma, I really don't. I get it that you were out of options when I brought you here. But you had one when we… when we… you really did. I never…" _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Just shut up now. Just shut the hell up._ She stood and was ready to walk away, to lock herself in her room, but she had a baby in her arms and was, it seemed, unable to let go. She settled for going into the kitchen, switching the lights off. She pulled the baby to her shoulder and let her face fall against the little back still wrapped in her best pajamas. What was she doing, dear god? She wanted to protect Emma and she wanted to protect herself but, it seemed, she could not do both at the same time.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist and Emma's head snuggled against her shoulder and neck. "I told you I'd fuck up."

Regina's hand went to Henry's head and cradled it as if protecting him from Emma's curse words but other than that, she made no move. This felt all wrong and blessedly right all in the same moment. And she was out of words. Out of words and out of heart to say them even if she had them. The thought that Emma might be what Gold had said and the feeling that she was, really, just someone who'd had to fight for herself every step of the way made her heart strings pull in opposite directions.

"I don't know how to trust, Regina. I'm really sorry. You did all of this and the first thing that occurs to me is of you selling me out for power in your light bulbs. I'm sorry. I don't know how to even begin to apologize."

"I didn't sell you out."

"I didn't know that."

"And now?"

"And now_" The phone rang, breaking the spell of Emma's words drizzling through Regina's neck and shoulders, slippery down her skin, permeating into her heart. The phone broke the contact even if Regina had not immediately identified it as such.

She handed Henry to Emma and moved to answer with a feeling of foreboding slowing her steps. "Hello?"

"I trust that you've had power returned to your lovely cabin, Ms Mills." Gold's voice crackled down the line.

She turned to Emma, her breathing heavy and guilty. "Mr. Gold!"

The incipient smile in Emma's pretty face dwindled and died an agonizing death.

"Shall I take that as yes?"

"Indeed, power as been restored."

"Good! Good, good, good."

"Mr. Gold, I was told once that there is no such thing as a free meal. I'm not sure what you expect to gain from this but_"

"Now, now, deary. Let's call it a random act of kindness. Nothing more, nothing less. A young widow such as yourself needs someone on her side. At least every once in a while. But let me remark on the fact that it is a strange thing for a woman such as yourself to say. I was well acquainted with your dear father and mother and I had not expected their only beloved daughter to have turned out such a cynic."

"Call it whatever you want, Mr. Gold, but facts are facts."

"Yes… Storybrooke has not treated you kindly." The oily tone was making Regina's stomach churn acid.

"And just why are we discussing that?"

"We aren't. Not at all. I was merely stating a _fact._"

"Mr. Gold. Thank you for your assistance in this matter. Have a pleasant evening."

"Deary… maybe I could just remind you that I am worried about my kin. Maybe ask you to keep your eyes peeled for what's mine. It would ease my heart greatly."

"Thus cementing my assessment that there is no free anything."  
"Ms Mills… She is a vulnerable child. She just needs someone to look out for her. An angel, if you will. Someone who can look beyond the lies and the manipulations and give her what she needs. I am not asking for myself, you understand? I'm asking for her and the child she carries."

"I will keep my huh… eyes peeled, Mr. Gold."

"Thank you kindly, Ms Mills. Have a good evening."

The noise of the phone sitting on the cradle was like thunder cracking.

"You didn't tell him." Emma stated blankly.

"No."

"He did it so that you would owe him, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

"But you're not turning me in…"

"No, Emma, I'm not. You don't need to talk like a fugitive, though. You'll be eighteen in a few days. He can't take you back. You'll be an adult then."

"He can't take me back now, Regina, he's not my father or anything."

"Then why are you so scared of him? Face him. He can't take Henry away from you. I'll help you. I'll do whatever… Emma… I have money. A lot of it, in fact. When Leopold died, he left me some money… I can help you. Just because he's Henry's grandfather, it doesn't mean he can take him away. No one can do that. We can get a lawyer and_"

Emma slumped on the sofa littered with diapers and baby clothes still in their packages. "I didn't exactly tell you the truth, Regina…"

_Sometimes, evil is staring you right in the face and it looks pretty, you know?_

Regina picked up a tiny green onesie and forced her fingers to relax around the material. She wished Emma would not tell her anything, she wished Emma would not confess anything at all. She wished that Emma would leave when she was fed up or ready to go and leave her to her illusions and that would be the end of it.

"I didn't get out of jail free… I didn't finish my time. If you call the Sheriff or Gold… I'll go to jail again."  
"Emma… please, I beg you, don't feed any more sob stories. I swear to you, you can have whatever you want. I'll be quiet, you can stay here, you can leave… Anything. Anything at all. Just don't lie to me. I can live with the truth. Just… the truth, please, Miss Swan."

"It is the truth, Regina. You can call and check what happened. There is a warrant for my arrest. I wasn't in so much trouble before I escaped. Now I am. Now if I go back, I'll go back for a long time. Look at me, Regina… Look at me." Henry yawned and made little gurgling sounds, content in Emma's arms. "They don't allow kids in jail. And what Gold wants is to prove Henry is better off without me. And he will. Without breaking a sweat."

Regina stood and busied herself with putting wrappers and torn packages away. She folded the cardboard neatly for kindling and jammed the plastic in a bag. She made the task last because she needed time to think. She needed to sort out what to do, who to believe. She needed to tidy up her heart.

Emma stayed silent, gently rocking Henry.

By the time she ran out of things to put away, Regina had made up her mind though she was not even aware: there was no way she would send Emma to face whatever was terrifying her so much, whether Gold was a concerned parent or a baby snatcher that would send Emma to jail. She liked hearing Emma's footsteps around the house. She liked the smell of burnt toast when Emma attempted breakfast. She liked the broken glasses and dishes that ended up in the trash can after each time Emma did the dishes. She liked the space that Emma took in the small cabin and the cold water that was left for her showers when Emma was finished with hers. And god help her, but she was in love with Henry, with his cries, with his peaceful gurgles, with each of his little fingers, with each dirty makeshift diaper that had ruined her wardrobe.

Truth was, she wanted them both in her life. No matter the cost.

She'd be whatever Emma needed her to be: a mother or a lover. A friend, a teacher, a babysitter. Maybe just someone to hold her hand. A free meal. Whatever it was that Emma needed from her was better that what she'd had so far.

The alternative was what she'd had now: an emptiness that would not be filled.

She sat next to Emma. "Are there any more lies that I should know about?"

"No."

"Half truths?"

"The car I was driving was not mine. It was stolen. I didn't hurt anyone to get it, I swear. It was just parked there for a couple of days and Neal and I… we just helped ourselves. That car and Henry… it was all I had from Neal. But that's it."

"You really are an orphan?"

"Not an orphan… An orphan had parents at some time. I was abandoned, hours old, at the side of a road. No more lies, Regina."

"Did you sleep with me because you were afraid I'd kick you out?"

"No!"

"I swear I'll slap you if you tell me you did it because you love me."

"Regina…"

"The truth, Emma. That's all."

"I was horny. I was lonely. Sometimes that's reason enough, no?"

"And I was there, handy…"

"It's not like that."

"It could have been anyone, Emma."

"So what? Have you been holding out for what? True love? A knight in shining armor?" Regina's silence resonated shock and heartbreak. "Oh god… You have… Oh shit! Regina, I… Look, it's not like that. I swear. You were kind to me. No one was ever kind to me like that, without expecting anything, despite all the shit I said. You were nice and you're pretty. You're really pretty, you know and… sometimes, things just feel right even when you don't know why. It felt right. That first time, when I woke up and you were there… it felt like… like…"

"What? What did it feel like?" Regina managed to push through the knot in her throat, leaning towards the words despite the hurt still flowing in her blood like fire. Hope, it seemed, springs eternal and drowns out common sense and self preservation.

Emma fought the need to be that knight in shining armor tooth and nail, valiantly, despite feeling like she was loosing ground with every second. "Like… I… All my life, I only got pushed around, into houses, out of them, into things, into doing things. I didn't really… There was not much choice. Not for me… That first time… It felt like I had a choice… not to be alone… not to be angry… not to be sad all the time. You don't have to believe me, Regina. But it's true. It felt like I had a choice…"

Everything hurt inside Regina. The bones, the skin, the organs, the hair… as if everything was rearranging itself into a new order, a new place. It hurt so good. So many ways in which to break a heart.

She sat back and leaned against the sofa, exhausted as if she'd run miles without a breath of air. She felt Emma moving gingerly on the sofa and then the warmth of the baby's body against her and her arms instinctively opened to hold him close to her heart.

"Please say something."

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of this." She moved Henry tighter against her and rubbed her cheek against the soft downy blond hair on his head. "Of asking you to stay."

"Why?"

"Because I know that you'll have to leave."

"You say that like you're chained to this place. The world is so big, Regina…"

Regina hummed something that might have been agreement but did not elaborate. For the moment, this, Henry in her arms, Emma snuggling against her was enough.

It was enough, she told herself. And it would have to be enough once Emma left.

… … …

Spring came in late. April still saw a few flurries of snow and then May came with rain showers, thunderstorms and the first blooms. There had been a time Regina had promised herself she'd go where it's warm all year, where you go around in shorts in December. Some things are not meant to be. But there was a comfort to that lateness of spring and a sorrow that came with it, a worry. The roads were finally clear and the days were longer. They had ventured with Henry outside, into the cold air and it all hammered the point home that Emma would be leaving soon.

It wasn't safe for her here. Gold was too close. Too interested in Regina. He had called several times, asking if there was anything she required. And even if Regina had been careful with her grocery run not to raise suspicions, Graham had still come into the store, fresh out of bed, sleep in his eyes when she'd been at the grocery shop as soon as it opened. Coincidence it was not. It made Regina nervous but she held her own. She was buying nothing out of the ordinary, nothing too much, nothing she hadn't bought before. And still, Graham was there, trying to chit chat, which he never did, not in all the years she'd known him. She returned home, anxious to find that Emma was peacefully nursing Henry nestled in bed, warm and content. She couldn't bring herself to break that moment. It wasn't like they didn't know they were on borrowed time.

But every time the phone rang, they were reminded of the fact.

… … …

The watched Titanic. And Alien. All four films. All illegally download, much to Regina's horror. They had microwave popcorn.

Emma nursed Henry and Regina drew them both in that intimate moment. It helped Regina step back, it helped her remember that she was part of that only temporarily. That in truth, she was kidding herself and she was but a witness to that bond, not a part of it.

She drew Emma in her sleep and Henry when he was awake, just looking at her as if he knew all her secrets and had something he couldn't wait to tell her.

She filled pages and pages of sketches and completed pieces. She worked diligently like an ant stocking up for winter.

… … …

Regina heard the car first. She stood up and went to the window and there was nothing to see yet, but she knew someone was coming.

"Hide!"

"What?"

"Someone's coming." Emma stood with Henry and looked around her. There was nowhere to hide.

"The shed."

"The car will be here before you can get in. The bathroom. Go in and stay there. Go Emma, go." Feverishly, she collected all of the baby paraphernalia- the diapers, the clothes, the toys, the toiletries and jammed them all where it would fit- under the sofa, in the cupboards in the kitchen, in her pockets. Then she brushed her hair, wiped the sweat from her face and the panic form her eyes, settled the frenzy before she walked out where Graham was already walking towards the house, looking around himself as if he expected to be ambushed.

"Sheriff. Are you missing any more troubled teenagers?"

"No. Still the same. Can we talk?"

"What about? Am I a suspect in her disappearance?"  
"Let's talk, Gina."

"It's Ms Mills, if you please, Sheriff."

"The hell it is. I've known you for far too long and I know when you're hiding something. I just hope, for your sake, you're not hiding a fugitive, Gina, 'cause that's a felony."

"Fugitive?"

"I did some digging and Gold finally came clean: the girl's got a record, Gina, for theft."

"Well, that's quite exciting for a little town like Storybrooke. Are you going to be the tough cop that brings her in, Sheriff?"

"It gets better. It gets much better. She escaped from prison. So there is a warrant for her arrest."

"Gets better for whom, Graham? I told you I haven't seen her, why are you so hell-bent on taking my time with things that are in no way related to me?"

"Because, Gina, I don't believe you. I told you, I know when you're hiding something and you are. You're hiding her. Did loneliness finally get to you? Don't you see how dangerous someone like this really is? Or didn't she even tell you this?" Graham growled in frustration. "Why, Gina? Why would you do it? You're putting yourself at risk and all for what? Huh? Wasn't all of what happened before enough? People are just starting to forget. You do this now and it'll start all over."

"I'm not putting anything at risk, Sheriff. I have never come across such a violent criminal. What on earth makes you even entertain that idea?"

"Because you're different."

"Sheriff_"

"Dammit it, Gina, Graham. Fucking call me Graham. I miss you, alright? I miss what we had."

"And just what was it that we had, Graham? The sneaking around? The sex in the old patrol car reeking of Leroy's piss? Just what was it that was so good? Was it the bruises that you never seemed to see? Or that I was slowly dying? Was that attractive to you? Romantic?"

"You know I was in a difficult position_"

"Really, Graham? Were you the one being beaten up on a weekly basis? Were you the one being_" The words dried out in her throat but she had to get it out. Now she had to get it out. "Were you the one being ra_ being… were you, Graham?"

"We had a good thing, Gina. We could do better now. I could do better. It was a long time ago…"

"Not enough time for me." Regina whispered as Graham ploughed on.

"… and Storybrooke will forget… they will forgive you. Just give then a good thing, something to focus on."

"Like what Graham? What else do you want me to give them?"

"Us. Give them us. Leave this place. Get a small place in town, let yourself be seen…"  
"With you?"

"Yes, with me. Nine years, Regina. It's long enough. Be with me. We'll go out together and be seen together. They'll get used to the idea and… and… it's going to be good, I promise."

"No, Graham…"

"It's going to be good. Don't you want that? To walk in Storybrooke with your head held high? No more insults, not more aggression… It's going to be good, Gina. Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

"I was not waiting for you Graham. I was not waiting for anyone."

"You're hurt. I hurt your feelings, I know, but_"

"Stop saying that, Graham. Stop it!" Regina shouted and backed up against the wall, because all her little rebellions, every single one of them had always ended in hurt, in punishment. It was an instinct, that pulling back, that retreating into safer ground.

… … …

The ground was slipping from under his feet. Why couldn't she see it, that it was finally time for them? This was it, the time was right. He wanted her, fiercely, in a way that he'd never felt before. Not with anyone else, not with her either. He wanted her now. He wanted his hands on her, he wanted her under him. He didn't want anyone around her.

When she said _stop, _it felt like he was down to a last chance: he moved into her space and pressed his body against hers, trapping her between himself and the wall. He hadn't meant it like a threat but he had to, he just had to. She was being tricked. She was being pulled from his hands and he had to show her, he had to make her see, to make her remember. He grabbed her face between his fingers and pressed a kiss on her, waiting for the moment she would surrender like she always had. But the moment just wasn't coming. She just didn't understand, she just didn't. He tried to deepen the kiss, to push his tongue past her lips. He held her arm above her head. He had missed her, he had missed this. And he was going to get it back. He was going to get it back for himself.

She just had to see, to remember. He let go of her face and with his now free hand, cupped her breast. She just had to remember.

The vicious bite on his lip took him by surprise, had him whimpering.

… … …

Regina felt her body frozen when Graham grabbed her face and forced the kiss. It was all those years back and he was Leopold and she was just too terrified to move, to react, to push him away. She just froze.

But then his hand grabbed her breast and this time Leopold would not hurt her, he was done hurting her because Henry was in the house, because he was her Lieutenant Ripley. Because she could save herself. She wanted to save herself.

The spell broke and she moved to push Graham away from her and then it was like watching from a different place: She was standing against the wall, pressed against it, but not defeated, not overwhelmed, not cowered. With all the power she could muster, intent on hurting, like an elastic band pulled too far. It just snapped. She carved her teeth where she could.

"I said _No_."

"Gina!" She couldn't decide whether Graham meant it as an admonition or a plea but either way, she was done. She pushed him further away from her and from the cabin, from her home, intent on closing the door behind her, close Graham off because the mere fact she had resisted now, did not mean she could do it again. In fact, she was quite certain she would be politely collapsing on the floor against the door as soon as it was closed because all the strength had now deserted her; she felt like an empty balloon, overstretched and used and empty.

She walked into the door without further word or comment and that incensed Graham further. He walked in behind her, stopping her from closing the door with a well placed foot between the door and the jamb and then pushed the door in and marched into _her_ living room, into _her house_.

"Where is she? Where the hell are you hiding the girl, Gina?"

"Get out!" It came out a squeaky sound that lacked strength. "Get out!" But she was not going to cry. She'd done enough of that for the last eighteen years. She summoned the last of her strength, all that was left. "You are not welcome here, Graham. Do not come in."  
"I'm going to find that girl and I'm going to take her back to where she belongs. And you, Gina, better call your lawyer because you're going to need one. You're aiding and abetting. You're going to jail too." He moved around her living room lifting things out of the way, moving books and logs as if a fully grown human could hide under such small objects. But maybe, he wasn't looking. Maybe he was just punishing her.

"Get out Graham, get the hell out!" A gun. She had a gun somewhere. She had Daddy's gun. "Get out of my house, Graham." Graham came from the kitchen and looked at the stairs. Regina saw his gaze and knew that all was lost. Graham ran to the stairs and climbed them three at a time. Regina took the gun and yelled again and again "Get out, Graham, get out of my house." But when she reached the first floor, he was already in her bedroom, walking into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain. "Graham!" She called one final time, the gun in her hand, her finger twitching on the trigger. "I asked you to get out."

Graham stared Regina in the face and moved to the wardrobe. Regina blinked trying to aim true. She took a few more steps for precision and inevitability. Her hand shook because she would do whatever she needed to do. And then Graham opened the wardrobe.

Emma was sitting on the ground, knees pulled to her chest, looking so incredibly small.

Graham pulled her up by the arm from closest.

"You're coming with me."

Regina cocked the trigger and Graham looked up, shocked.

"No, she's not."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: **And we're coming closer! One more chapter and that's it. Buckle up!

Thank you to all the anons commenting. You are all lovely!

Much love

Jane

* * *

Chapter 12

.

"Put the gun down, Gina."

"I told you, Graham, it's Ms Mills."

"You'd do that? You'd kill me for… for _this_?" Graham pulled Emma up like a ragdoll in the hands of a careless boy.

"Let go of her, Graham."

"You can't ask me that, Gina…"

"I'm not asking. I'm telling you. Let go of her."

"You're ruining what's left of your life, Gina. You're aiding and abetting. It's a felony. You'll go to jail for a very long time for that."

The gun shook in Regina's hand because Graham was not going anywhere- ever again- if he didn't let go of Emma. Graham seemed to understand that. He released Emma's arm and turned his full attention to Regina. "Do you see now what she does? What kind of manipulative urchin she is, Gina? She has you throwing your life away without a second thought. She has you choosing her over yourself. Chose carefully, Regina. This is not something you can come back from. Whatever she promised, you, whatever she gave you in return, it's not worth it. It's not worth to spend the next ten years in jail."

"Stop, Graham. Stop talking now." Her hands shook more and more. Emma walked backwards towards the bed, away from the wardrobe.

"No, I'm just telling it to you like it is. I'm going to arrest her. Then I'm going to arrest you for impeding an investigation, for aiding and abetting and then I'm going to cart you both to Storybrooke. You just threw away your life, Gina. Where's the child? Gina, where's the child?"

Through the corner of her eyes, Regina saw the panic closing over Emma's face like a shutter and her eyes fixed on the wardrobe. She wanted to tell Emma not to worry, not to worry one bit because she was going to fix this, she was going to give Emma the chance to go.

"You're not going anywhere, Graham. I'll kill you first." Her hand shook wildly now and Graham made a move to evade Regina's line of shot. Her hand moved with him. Graham stood between the wardrobe and the gun.

"Gina… Let me take her in. She doesn't deserve your sacrifice. You're fooling yourself if you think she does. For what we had together, I'll… I'll lie. I'll say I found her wandering in the woods. I'll say she held you hostage. For what we had together. For Daniel. I love you, Gina… I'll save you from this mess. Just… Don't you have enough blood on your hands already?"

Regina's hand stopped shaking. "What?"

"Daniel. Your mother. Leopold. Your father. Haven't you had enough, Gina? Aren't you tired?"

"You think I killed Daniel." It wasn't a question. It was a sad remark.

"The brakes, Gina, were cut. The forensics report is still filled at the station."

"Graham… When Leopold died… did you ever… Did you ever believe I didn't kill him?"

Graham's shoulder sagged, the turn in the conversation unexpected. By the bed, Emma tensed, her eyes fixed on the gun and the Sheriff's movements.

"Just let him take me, Regina. It's a good offer. Thank you for being kind. Just… it's time to go now."

"He's not taking you anywhere." She wanted to ask about Henry and looked into Emma's eyes trying to read an answer there. Emma simply came to her side, her expression carefully blank.

"Let him, Regina. This is not good. Let him. Please. Take the offer. Get on with your life." This wasn't trust. She wanted Emma's trust but this was not it. This was no options left.

"Did you, Graham? Did you ever believe I didn't push him down the stairs that night?"

"What does it matter, Regina? I did what I could to help you."

"Dammit, Graham, answer me. Did you ever believe I didn't push my violent, abusive, sack of shit husband down his overpriced marble staircase?"

"It doesn't matter, Gina. I did all I could for you. I couldn't have done any more…"

"Did you, Graham?"

"Gina, I loved you then. I love you still. What does it matter?"

"It matters. It matters to me."

"It doesn't make any difference_"

"I love Emma." The words came out raspy around the edges, rough on her heart.

"You are not that naïve!" Graham rubbed at his chest, heartburn was scoring this throat and stomach. He took Emma's arm and prepared to move past Regina. "This is someone who wants to- no – someone who _is_ taking advantage of you, of your loneliness to get away with a slew of crimes and you're… you're… It's pathetic, Gina. Ridiculous. And what's worse, is that it's making you a criminal. I'm here, Gina, I'm trying to save you from yourself. Wake up. Just fuckin' wake up before it's too late." Graham shouted.

A wail sounded from the wardrobe. Emma's eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall. She looked at Regina with undisguised panic. Graham went back to wardrobe and opened it, pawed through it until he found the small blue bundle that was Henry nestled in a bed of soft clothes. He reached to pick the child up, but it took one shout from Regina, "Don't move!" and he stood still. Emma crawled into the wardrobe and picked up the baby in her arms, rocked him gently. She looked at Regina and mouthed _Sorry_.

"See, Graham, the difference between you and me is that I actually choose to believe the woman I love even if that makes me an idiot and an accessory to a crime."

"How noble."

"It also reminds me of one small fact: you're trespassing. You're trying to make an illegal arrest. So I suggest that you go home and return with a warrant. Because until then, you're not taking anyone from this house."

"I told you there is a warrant already. And you, Gina, were caught in the act. I don't need a warrant."

"I have a gun, Graham. And I will use it." Graham rubbed at his chest as if his heart hurt. "You said you love me. Show me, then. For once, show me. Come back with a warrant. You'll find me here. You can serve justice when you come back. Just…"

Emma was on the floor, cradling Henry, the tears now free falling on the baby blanket.

Graham studied Regina intently and then Emma and Henry, now quiet. He sat on the bed, the handcuffs jingling from his belt. "I don't think you'd hurt me."

"You think I killed Daniel and Leopold. If you believe that, you must believe that I will kill you too."

"I love you, Gina."

"No, you don't, Graham."

"There's no ice on the roads…" Graham stated, his eyes on the carpet. The statement resonated in the air, a living thing. Regina knew then that truly, everything had a price.

"Okay."

"I'll come back with a warrant. And I'll have my deputy on the bridge. She's not going anywhere, do you understand, Regina? You have an hour to pack for the child. An hour."

Emma curled herself over Henry as if she could take him back inside her and protect him that way. Graham stood and walked to the stairs. "An hour, Gina. Then we talk about us."

As soon as she heard Graham's footsteps on the stairs, Regina launched herself to the floor next to Emma. She took the drenched cheeks in her hands. "Get up, Emma you must pack. Get ready. I'll help you. Come on." She stood and walked to the window to check on the progress. Graham was trudging to the car through the mud. He looked at the bedroom window and understanding passed between them in that second.

"Emma, come on, pack!"

"Regina, I don't get it… you… you wouldn't. You didn't sell me out to Gold… You're not doing it now…"

"No, I'm not."  
"So what?"

"Pack, Emma!" She dragged a duffel from the wardrobe and emptied the drawers with Henry's clothes in it, the diapers, all the toys she could find. "Emma, don't stand there."

"He said an hour."

"He'll be back in an hour. Help me!"

"No! Tell me what's happening."

"Emma, plea_"

"No! What the fuck is going on, Regina?"

Regina measured her options. She stopped in front of Emma and smoothed a blond lock between her thumb and forefinger. "What's happening is that Graham is a good man. You'll pack and you'll get going. By the time he gets here, you'll be gone. There's no ice on the roads. You'll be gone. He won't follow you."

"Because you'll entertain him. Distract him."

"He'll have what he wants, Emma."

"Do you want the same he does?" It hurt to ask the question because she hated the possible answer. She hated that she wanted to know.

"I told him the truth."

"That you love me."

"Yes."

"So how come you're making me go on my own?"

"Because you're right… Gold will do whatever to get Henry. And I don't want that for him. I don't want that for you. Henry must come first."

"So you're doing what? You're sacrificing yourself? Is martyrdom a thing for you?"

"Pack Emma. Let me do the right thing."

"This is not the right thing."

"Do you want to keep your baby or not, Emma?" There had to be a way she could keep both, Emma thought wildly, that she wouldn't have to choose. There had to be a way. "You'll take the car and drive away. Don't stop until you're through the state line."

"We." Emma's tone was flat.

"You and Henry, yes. I fitted the car seat and there are blankets in the back and _"  
"We. You and me and Henry."

"No, Emma. You and Henry."

"We." She grabbed Regina's hand on her hair with urgency. Regina just nodded sadly. Graham was a good man, but everything came with a price. Both Graham and Regina understood that. Emma had expounded on it too. So she knew it. Regina kissed Henry's forehead. "Here, it's ready. Let's go. Go put on your shoes, dear."

Emma moved as if in a trance. She was almost at the stairs when she turned around. "Aren't you tired?"  
"Of what?"

"Of selling yourself to pay for other people's debts." It should have been a question, but the tone was an accusation.

There were no words to reply. None that Regina could bear to tell herself. To have Emma listen and understand. She picked up the duffel and motioned Emma to move ahead of her. Emma went down the steps with all the alacrity of a prisoner marching to the guillotine. Regina grabbed the car keys, and a package she had already prepared. She called it a care package. She hoped Emma would see it like that.

When she dragged the bag to the porch, Emma had her shoes on and the oversized parka she'd been wearing on the day of the accident. Henry was nestled against her chest sharing the parka with his mother.

Emma just looked at the door as if the end of the world was on the other side of it. Nothing about this was alright. Nothing. It shouldn't hurt like an amputation to remove herself from this cabin. It shouldn't. It shouldn't hurt to the point she couldn't draw breath to know that she would never see Regina again. It shouldn't. This was the plan working. It was working. All the pieces falling into place despite her many blunders.

Regina walked out with the car keys in her hand and Emma felt weak and alone. Bereft. She'd thought she'd lost the best part of herself when Neal left her, pregnant and alone. She'd thought she would never be happy again. But here, with Regina, she'd been happy. She'd been cared for and cherished. She'd laughed and she cried. She'd been who she thought she could be, without the fear and the constant looking over her shoulder. She'd been part of something, part of something important, meaningful despite her best efforts to ruin everything.

Stupid, stupid of her to think that that puppy love of hers and that toxic, careless thing of Neal's could be anything, anything at all compared to what she felt at that moment. She hadn't understood, she couldn't possibly have understood how love could cause such a reaction, such a physical, overwhelming, reaction on your body. How the loss of it could hurt so physically in this way that left your breathless, feverish, weak. She had never been weak when Neal had fucked off. She'd raised her head and moved along, waited time out for payback, but not this, not this at all.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, the only thing holding her upright. She had to take a minute, a minute to settle, a minute for her hands to stop shaking and her knees to stop trembling.

She had a _plan. _ It was a good plan. Falling in love had not been it. But realities had to be faced: she was in love with Regina. And she was leaving her behind.

_Roll with it, Emma. Roll with it._ And though she was not quite sure what that meant, she was fairly sure that it was something along the lines of driving like a bat out of hell and never come back to this part of the country.

Henry had to come first.

… … …

Regina drove the car almost into the porch. She left the engine running to warm up the interior for Henry. Then she jumped onto the porch and took the duffel and stuffed it into the booth. She ran into the house and packed random packets of all she could find- cookies, chocolates, poptarts. Potato chips. She grabbed fruit and filled a thermos with hot milk because she needed to make sure that Emma ate something more that sugary treats. She grabbed the basket and put it in the car. And then she went inside looking for something else she could do, something she could busy herself with so this didn't have to hurt so much, so that this inevitable goodbye of theirs, this hellish night, didn't have to draw to a close.

Regina was like a shark. She couldn't stop moving or she would die. She would die of a broken heart. But thirty minutes were gone and if Emma didn't get going, Graham would be back and all would be lost.

She picked up the small package that contained anything of value she could find in the house. "Here. Car papers. It's yours now. Credit cards, some cash. It'll keep you going for some time."

Emma stood there with Henry in her arms unable to move, feeling the clock ticking down. Regina moved first. She opened the back door to put Henry in his seat. Emma handed her the baby and Regina held him as the gift he was to her for the last time. Emma would not come back.

This was, Regina knew, the last time they would ever see each other. The last time she would ever see Henry. So she held him tightly and took in his clean, pure scent, committed it to memory.

"What about the man at the bridge?" Emma asked, her tone dead, absolutely lifeless.

"Leroy is probably drunk out of his ass at this time. You'll have no trouble passing even if he manages to get there. Just keep going. It's a good car Emma, it can take a bump or two. Just don't stop."

"What about you?"

"Go on, Emma, get going."

"What about you, Regina?"

"Graham will see me in half an hour. Nothing will happen. He's a good man."

"You have a funny definition of _good man._"

Regina nuzzled Henry, not ready to put him in his car seat. For a moment, she'd had the happiness she'd been looking for all her life: someone walking around the house barefoot, chatting away the cold night, a baby gurgling in her arms.

You just can't trust happiness.

Now it was all but gone.

"Henry will be a good man, Emma, I'm sure. You'll make him a good man." Carefully, she wrapped the baby in a blanket to ward off the cold night and closed her arms tighter around him. "Drive safely Emma."

"I'll let you know where I'm going. When I get there. Thank you. For everything." She could see how much it took for Regina to produce a passable wave of dismissal. She wanted to add an _I love you_ but though it was true, it would do neither of them any favors to have it in the air between them. "I'd like to stay here with you. I've never felt so safe. But I need to go. Gold is never going to stop."

"You must go. Get your son away from him."

Emma moved from one foot to the other. _Roll with it_ she told herself. _Adjust_. Except, for once, she didn't want to. She didn't want to adjust, she didn't want the free ride, she didn't want to leave anyone behind. Henry made a sleepy noise and she made up her mind.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You'll be here…" Dammit if she wasn't going to fight. If she wasn't going to live up to the faith Regina had put in her. Even if she had to break a few things to do just that. "When is it going to be enough Regina? When is it going to be enough punishment?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean you're doing this to yourself. You're in jail here, with your dead. They have you by the leg, like shackles. You've paid more than your dues, even the ones that were not yours. When are you going to believe that? When are you going to leave this voluntary prison of yours and just… live? The dead are dead, Regina. But you're letting them rule your life… just like when they were alive. Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Do you think the dead forgive us, Emma?" Regina could all but see the faces of her dead. Daniel's and her mother's, Leopold's and Daddy's. And none of them wanted to be alone. None of them wanted her to break free. Not even Daniel. Not even Daddy.

"I think they do. The ones that matter have nothing to forgive you for. Your husband? Does it even matter? Didn't he take enough from you when he was alive? Your dad and Daniel… if they're out there, they want you to be happy. Leave this place, Regina. Go be happy… Come be happy." Emma nearly tacked on _with me_ but that was up to Regina. Her free riding days were over. Henry had to learn better. "They don't need you here anymore."

"And where would I go, Emma? This is my life. This is all I know."

_Take your foot off the brake, Regina_ she heard her father whisper in her ear. _Let go, Sweetheart._

On the other side of the car, Emma asked her. "Take your foot out of the brake, Regina."

It was the last time she would ever hold Henry, the last time she would ever see Emma. "I want you, Emma, I want to go with you so much… but I'm such a coward. I'm not brave enough."

Emma reached out her hand and prayed for the right words. She prayed that god or whatever it was, would not let her fuck up like all the other times before. She prayed for words that would go deep, that would pierce through Regina's wall of fear. "It doesn't count as brave if you're not afraid. It's just stupid otherwise." Henry stirred in Regina's arms, doing his best to lift his head from her shoulder. "Come with me. Let's get out of this town. Come with me. Say _fuck you_ to these people and this half life. Let's see the world. Let's see what we can do with it."

Regina reached for Emma's hand, trying to close the gap between them. She flexed her fingers to touch Emma's but the gap remained. She felt the world around, let it come to her through her ears, through her skin because her eyes were on Emma. A step was all it would take. There was a moment where the only thing between them was silence. Regina looked back, expecting to see the dead holding her back.

No one was there.

Perhaps the dead didn't give a shit about what she did with her life. Perhaps they had better things to do. Perhaps she was even less important to them now than when they'd been alive. And yet, here she was, afraid to reach out. _Fuck it _she thought for a brilliant, shinny second. She'd been happy when she'd been certain that Emma would leave. She'd been happy despite the certainty of loss because it was certain. This was not. Emma's hand reaching out for her, waiting for her, that was no certainty. That was a challenge and life waiting for her.

She thought of the MaiTais she'd thought she'd be serving on a beach and why she hadn't left to serve them. Fear. She had stayed out of fear of succeeding. Not out of fear of failing. _Fuck it_ the thought echoed again. There it was, her hand reaching out for Emma. _Take your foot off the brake, Sweetheart_ Daddy whispered again. She covered Henry's ear with her hand and took a step forward. "Fuck it!" The words came out a whisper and then gained in volume, in strength, in power in her head. "Fuck it," she screamed, this time. "Fuck it!" She leaned forward and her hand touched Emma and Emma's fingers closed around hers and they would not let go. Her life stopped skidding and spinning and came to stop.

And then it started moving. Forward.

Emma pulled Regina to her. "Come on!" Emma jumped and placed a sound kiss on Regina's lips. "Let's get the hell out of dodge." And her smile was bright, wide, luminous even through the tears. "Do you have another bag?" But she was already running into the cabin grabbing Regina's things as she passed them, a randomness to the exercise that did not register. Regina was coming and that was all that mattered.

… … …

Standing still in front of the car where Emma had let go of her hand, Regina pulled Henry up to her line of sight. "It looks like I'm coming with you. I can be happy. I can be happy, can't I, Henry? Just not here."

… … …

Emma came down the steps dragging a duffel bag not even remotely closed. She just dumped it into the booth of the car, next to hers. She had come in empty handed. She was leaving in a car full of the people she loved.

Regina had strapped Henry to the car seat and stuffed her feet in her shoes and it was a mad, violent rush because Graham would be back soon.

She banged the door closed and started the engine, with Emma still removing items from her pockets, tossing them into the back seat. "Buckle up!" Regina cried. Emma half slid half jumped into her seat. "Wait."

"Did you forget anything?"

"Yeah!" She grabbed Regina's face and kissed her fiercely, a heady mix of teeth and tongue, of fear and happy, of faith and apprehension. "For luck."

Regina touched her bruised lips. "For luck!"

"Now, drive Regina. Drive the car. Go, go, go!" Emma screamed in glee.

Regina moved her foot from the brake to the gas and put all her weight, all her fear and hope, all her happiness on that pedal. The wheels spun and spun lifting leaves and bits of soil and then the car moved and hurtled down the access road to the cabin.

Blood pumped through Regina's veins in a new, totally unexpected but totally welcome way. "Let's not get caught, huh?"

Emma only smiled that angel smile of hers. "You won't let them."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Epilogue

_2 Years Later_

Regina picked up the tray of MaiTais with a nod to the bartender. She plastered a smile on her face and moved through the crowded bar to serve her tables. Reality was a far cry from fantasy. Fantasy feet don't hurt. Fantasy heart isn't small with apprehension. Fantasy ass is not pinched by everyone from teenagers to old men who ought to behave better. Fantasy clients did not look at her and think it appropriate pick up line _aren't you a bit old to be serving MaiTais on the beach_.

She looked at her watch. Fantasy Regina had never worn a wrist watch, had never rushed away from the view of Pacific gently lapping at the sand.

But then again, fantasy Regina had never had to run uphill like crazy to make it on time to pick up her son from the absurdly overpriced childcare she entrusted him to every day. Fantasy Regina had never had a tiny pair of arms wrap itself around her tired legs. It was a very good trade off.

When three o'clock rolled around, she closed her till for the day and went into the back, shimmied off her uniform and, in record time, made it out of the employees' exit of the beach club still running her fingers through her hair.

Ten minutes after that, she was ringing the bell at the nursery gate. The camera focused on her and the signal opened for her to punch in her code. Every time the camera zoomed in on her, that she punched in that code, she felt a wave of reassurance. No one would ever get past those gates through to her son.

She walked through the carefully manicured playground and went into the designated room. She took a moment to look in through the glass panes of the door, to find her son's darkening hair, dark brown now, to hear his giggles. The nursery assistant came and opened the door. She would never know what to make of this woman, a waitress on some beach club who insisted on paying probably four times her paycheque for her son's kindergarten. But the payment had never once been late, so she kept her thoughts to herself.

"Ms Mills. Henry is ready to go."

"Thank you. That was very kind."  
"Well, you did say you'd be in a hurry. Big day?"

Regina smiled a brilliant smile that had the assistant a little jealous of whoever welcomed this woman home every night. And she was happily married. "You could say that."

"Oh?" She couldn't help herself. She was curious over everything about Henry Mills and his mother.

Regina knew better than to volunteer information but this was indeed a big day. "Yes! Henry's mom is coming home."

… … …

_The little Mercedes clipped the deputy Sheriff's car with little more than a scrape of metal and a broken side mirror. Leroy had never paid much attention to road blockade classes, it seemed, which suited Regina just fine. She had enough blood on her hands to have passed Leroy at any cost and it would have probably cost them dearly. It seemed, for once, luck was on her side. Their side. Emma hooted in laugh and rolled her window down to pull in the side mirror hanging by its electrical components. "It died a heroic death!" She giggled looking back at Henry, now soundly asleep lulled by the car's movements._

_Regina looked at the mirror and took a moment to laugh in relief. "I'm so nervous, Emma!"_

"_I know!" Emma settled into her seat and put her hand over Regina's on the gear stick. When Regina looked up from their joined hands, she had time to see Graham's car before he passed them in the opposite direction and hit the brakes violently. Her hour was over. Through the rear view mirror, she saw Graham getting out of the car and kick the tires in frustration. "He's a good man. He's not going to come after us!"_

_"We really need to talk about your definition of good men..." Regina paled and her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Emma decided that they had time for change. That she could give Regina the time and the love enough to show her what a good man is. They had time now. "Is that wishful thinking?"_

"_Is it stupid?" Regina asked once the curve on the road cut Graham from her mirror._

"_Maybe. But I'll tell you what: even if he isn't, even if he comes after us, I'm not letting go. No trade off. I don't have much, but what I have, Henry and you, I aim to keep." They had time. And that was all that mattered. _

_… ... ..._

_They stopped some four hours later in the suburbs of Boston, safely past two state lines. Regina figured that small towns were better avoided. People remembered things in those places, they took notice, they knew details. They needed a big city where people minded their own business. Regina felt a need to keep going, but Henry was hungry and letting them know it. He definitely needed a diaper change too, judging by the angry wailing. And they were tired. The initial adrenaline rush, the hooting and laughing, the sheer sense of freedom, of shared freedom, was now tamed by achy backs and hunger and by the enormity of what they were doing._

_Emma had suggested a road side diner, something with a bathroom where they could attend to their needs. She'd nurse Henry in the back seat, change him and after a meal, they'd get going. Except, none of the places they passed by looked, to Regina, salubrious enough to take a baby into._

_Eventually, she opted for a Holiday Inn with a covered garage and very little by way of CCTV that she could see. She checked them in while the startled night porter looked fearfully at the ever wailing Henry. _

_With a new diaper and fed, Henry was back to his usual sunny self, his blond hair so much like Emma's, his incipient smiles a copy of hers too. _

_Regina held him in her arms while she waited for Emma to finish her shower. "I'm always going to take care of you and mommy, okay? Don't worry… I know, I know... I am worried. I've never done this before, you know? I never got to leave Storybrooke on my own… But I'll figure it out, okay? We're going to be okay. I promise. No one's ever going to take you away from Emma." Henry gurgled in agreement._

_Emma came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam and generic soap that smelled wonderful on her. She was wrapped in a towel, wet hair trailing down her back and sat next to Regina on the bed. "We need a plan, Emma. Where are we going? What do we do now?"_

_Emma crossed her legs and leaned back on her arms. She looked so impossibly young it made Regina's heart ache. She was the adult one. She had to keep them all safe. She had to come up with the plans and she had precious little to offer in that respect._

"_When you wanted to serve MaiTais on the beach… what beach did you have in mind?"_

"_Hawaii, I guess… I don't know. All I needed was the beach. The where was not particularly important."_

"_Let's go find one that you like…"_

_Regina studied Henry and then Emma. She had no better plan to offer, no brighter idea. "What about Henry? He needs a stable place to stay."  
"Well, unless you intend on looking for that beach on your own, I'd say he's got pretty good… food on tap, change of diapers… he doesn't need much more for the time being. And you're right… we need some miles between us and Storybrooke…"_

_Emma pulled a map from her bag. Regina could only imagine how she'd gotten it. "Guy was too busy looking you up and down. And we needed a map."_

"_Which we could still afford…"_

"_It keeps my fingers nimble… Oh, come on, don't worry so much. It's just a map." Regina looked unconvinced but made no further comment. "Pick a place for us to start looking."_

_Regina studied the map carefully, her finger tracing the lines of the main roads, calculating the distance, the time it would take them to get there. "I like Point Pleasant Beech, New Jersey…"_

_Emma laughed. "Sure."_

"_Why are you laughing?"_

"_Do you watch TV… like ever?"_

"_Why? What's wrong with it?"  
"Nothing… Nothing wrong with Jersey Shore… " Emma got on her knees and nuzzled Regina's neck with her arms around her and her son. "I suppose if all you need is the beach and the MaiTais that could be a good place to start, right? It's not like we have to stay if you don't like it…"_

"_Indeed. If we don't like it, we move on."_

"_Did I ever tell you that you look really pretty when you get dreamy about something?"_

"_No…"_

"_Well, you do…"_

"_Thank you…"_

"_Welcome. Regina?"_

"_Yes…" The words were staring to come out as purrs._

"_Henry is asleep…"_

"_He is…"_

"_And there is a perfectly nice bed here…"_

"_Yes…" Regina wanted to continue, but Emma was nuzzling her way down Regina's neck and for some reason, Regina's verbal capacity or lack thereof, seemed to be connected to her centre and the more it throbbed, the less words made sense in her head._

"_Why don't you put him down and we can discuss the weather or something like that…"_

"_The weather?" Regina held Henry as if he were a life buoy and she was drowning._

"_Or something. I really want to kiss you now."_

_Something in Regina's chest swelled up, nearly burst. She put Henry down in the smallest bed and surrounded him with pillows. When she straightened her back and walked to Emma, Emma was standing up, perfectly still by the bed. She dropped her towel with one movement of her hand and stood gloriously naked before Regina. "It looks ugly now."_

"_What does?" Regina speech impediment seemed to worsen at the sight but she understood perfectly when Emma looked at herself with derision. It was a sobering thought but Regina was an expert on how words mean very little when you're hell bent on believing the worst about yourself. She kneeled before Emma. "You're beautiful." And demonstrated how wrong Emma really was. "Absolutely beautiful."_

_... ... ..._

_It didn't take more than a month for Regina to dislike New Jersey and it didn't have much to do with the quality of the beach. It was probably because she'd never lived on the run, but she couldn't stop thinking that they were too close to Storybrooke. That if she'd been wrong and Graham was not a good man, it would be so easy for them to get caught. What were a few miles between them and Gold and Graham? Maybe Hawaii would be a better option. A continent and an ocean in between them and Gold would be better. She took Emma's stolen map and perused it. "I want to go see the Grand Canyon."_

"_The Grand Canyon?"_

"_Yes. I always thought I'd love to see the sun rise there."_

_Emma studied Regina's face. "It's a good excuse, Regina. How about the truth?"_

_Sometimes, Regina had trouble believe that Emma was so young. She sounded so old… But there was one thing they owed each other: the truth. "We're too close. I'm scared all the time."_

"_Okay…"_

"_Just like that?"_

"_I'm not your husband, Regina. The decisions we make, we make them together." _So old…_ "Do you want to try a beach on the other side of the country?"_

"_I want to keep going until we run of land to drive on. As far as possible. Are you okay with that?"_

_Emma's reply was a sound kiss on Regina's forehead. She leaned on her hand. "You're really pretty when you get all decisive. Did I ever tell you that?" _

_Maybe she should have been old enough to be more sensible, but when Emma said things like that, her heart soared and she felt like she could fly. Like she was seventeen again. Like she believed in the world again._

_... ... ..._

_Who would have said that inspection would get you caught? The car inspection ran out after eight months on the road. And their luck ran out in Fallbrook, California. _

_The traffic police stopped them, maybe out of boredom, and the inspection on Regina's Mercedes was out by too long to charm their way out of it. And what do you know, when the cop ran the car's registration and their identities, flags went up at Emma's name. _

_They didn't leave the Sheriff's station again. _

… … …

Emma sat calmly on her cot in her cell. It was almost done. She was almost free. All this time, she'd been very careful not to let herself get dragged back into the system. She knew what she had to do. She had to keep her nose clean, stay out of fights, stay put in her cell.

After a while, she had a reputation in her cell block: she was the quiet one. And everyone knew that still waters ran deep with Emma Swan.

She was still the youngest prisoner on the cell block but that didn't make her more vulnerable. It made her someone that other women, hard knocked women looked out for. Emma was who they could have been a very long time ago.

And Emma was fine with it. It took her a while to let herself be protected, but she knew what it did for other women: it gave them something to focus on. A sort of silver lining, a blur of hope.

There were no belongings here that she needed to collect. She had only a photo booth picture of the three of them before they got caught where they were smiling and Regina's drawings of Henry, of the sunset, of a life outside these bars that Emma couldn't wait to get to. She collected those and put them in an envelope and waited.

… … …

_When Sheriff Mac stopped them, Emma had known that no matter how done you think you are with the past, it rarely is the case that the past is done with you. She watched strangely sedated as the car inspection was checked, as their identities were checked. Regina was sweating bullets next to her, shaking. Emma pulled her into a hug and whispered "It's okay. It's going to be okay." It wasn't, not really, of that Emma was sure. Gold would swoop in and take Henry now that it was thoroughly proved how unfit for motherhood she really was and she was going to lose everything she'd ever had of goodness in her life. But she'd be damned if she was going to be a weeping, sniveling mess while it happened._

_When they were shown into the interview room at the station, Emma sat with Henry in her arms trying to soak up what was left of her happiness._

_When the Sheriff came in, he had a file and was wearing a frown that hugged the whole of his face. "I believe that I will want to conduct this interview with you in a separate room, Miss Swan. I'd like to talk to Ms Mills without you present. So, Officer Fogan here will escort you to the holding cell until I'm ready to talk to you."_

_Regina's response was immediate. She latched onto Emma's arm and cried "No"._

_The Sheriff looked at her, tapped her hand. "It is well documented, Ms Mills, that kidnapping victims develop an attachment to their captors. They have a fancy name for it too. But you're safe now. You're in a safe place."_

"_Kidnap? No one kidnapped anyone! I was in a safe place before. We both were."_

"_Ms Mills, you do understand the seriousness of your situation, I expect? It is one thing to be a victim of a crime. It's quite another to pervert the course of justice. So please do yourself a favor and weigh your answer carefully before giving it to me."_

"_There is only one answer: there was no kidnapping. We packed our bags and we were going to California and Emma is_"_

"_A kidnapper." Emma interrupted and tried to silence Regina with a look that bore holes on Regina's forehead. She adjusted Henry in her lap and made sure Regina understood the point. _You said that you'd take care of him_**.**__ Regina nodded refusing violently. That was settling for half. No, actually, that was selling out. It was the worst thing. "Ripley needs you." Emma whispered_. Get out of here and take him with you._ She pushed the thought at Regina with all her might. "Take care of your son, Regina. Ripley always comes first."_

_The Sheriff looked at his notes. There was nowhere the mention of a son for either woman. But he could smell a bad story and this one stunk. The studied the older woman taking the baby in her arms and kissing the blond hair lovingly but with her eyes brimming with tears. "Is there anything you'd like me to know?"_

"_No." The younger girl stated flatly. It was terrible to see youth wasted. It was also very difficult to believe a girl this young, this… _angelic _could, on her own, master a kidnapping for over eight months on the road… God, he could believe it if there had been a basement or an attic somewhere, but this manipulation of the victim in broad daylight… Nah, something was not quite right. Maybe it was the way her eyes lingered on the baby as if all she wanted was to go back to holding him. Or the way she looked at the older one, like all the world was wrapped up in her. As if she was defending her from some unknown danger. There was something odd and odd made his teeth itch. _

"_I'll tell you what: let's be fair. Let's hold both of you. The one holding the baby for the night gets the cushy cell. You guys can choose. But I'm not letting any of you out of here because you, Miss Swan are already in deep shit with an outstanding warrant for your arrest. And you, Ms Mills, will stay because I'm having a hard time believing the kidnapping story and I'm a better safe than sorry kind of guy. Now, are you sure you want her to keep the baby, Miss Swan?"_

"_He's her son."_

_It made his teeth itch. That was all. It made his teeth itch all damned day._

_... ... ..._

_The Sheriff's teeth were still itching hours later. He'd sent social services to speak to the older one because he had a feeling she might break easier but Miss Roberts came to his office empty handed. No, the woman wouldn't budge. Not a word out of her and when Miss Roberts had made an attempt at touching the baby, the woman had all but growled at her ,something fierce and wild. He sat in his office, door closed, nursing a cup of the station's sludge that passed for coffee. His stomach was burning and he could think of little else but the dead eyes on the girl. A girl. He thought of his own daughter, safely, he hoped, at home, probably on the phone, giving him another bill to worry about. This one had never had much of anyone to worry about her. And though she was, theoretically at least, an adult, no longer a child, he had trouble dismissing all he had read on her file. _

_He scratched his head and picked up the phone. "Fogan?"_

"_Sir?"_

"_Say you want someone's credit card, the car, the money…"_

"_Sir?"_

"_How do you get those?"_

"_Ask for them?"_

"_What if they don't want to give them to you?"_

"_S'pose it's called theft."_

"_Thought so… What about taking the owner along with you?"_

"_Depends…"_

"_On?"_

"_Whether I have a death wish or not."  
"Let's assume you don't."_

"_Sheriff Mac, I know what you're thinking and who you're thinking about."_

"_Do you, now?"_

"_Sheriff, for all it's worth, you've got good instincts. Go with your instincts."_

_... ... ..._

_He felt like a creep, watching the woman sitting on the cot of the station's VIP cell, holding onto the baby and, if he as any judge- and he was- crying her heart out. Sure, people did a lot of fucked up shit, but he just had a nagging feeling about these two. He was a believer in love and its many shapes, sizes and persuasions and, between these two, there it was. Love. Not need, not fear, not dependency. Love. He went to the security desk and studied the CCTV images of both holding cells. There she was, the blond one, looking for all the world like her life was over. Pretty much the same as the one on the other side of the split screen. _

_He made up his mind even against his better judgment._

_... ... ..._

_In the morning, after he had tried to sleep off the silly case of the soft heart- and failed- he went to the holding cell and sat down next to the girl. He should have sent her to state already. Her paperwork was all but done, missing only his signature. _

"_I want you tell me something."_

_She looked at him trying to look composed and he liked the attitude. He was weak with the weepers and this was far more civilized. _

"_Do you trust her?" He saw the moment the girl's hands went paper white clutching at the sides of the bench she was sitting on. She remained stubbornly silent but the trembling of her limbs was an answer in and of its own. "Do you trust her with your baby?"_

"_He's not my baby. I'm too young to have kids." Emma worked the knot on her throat._

"_Miss Swan… Emma. You don't know me from anywhere, so I'm going to give you a break here. I'm not stupid and I'm not your enemy. Whatever you're running from. In fact, I am the one standing between you and very long jail term. So please, do me the favor of trusting me for a second. Even though you don't look like you do that often. I know that child is your kid. I also know that you didn't kidnap Ms Mills. And while we're on the known facts, you know that if she came with you willingly, she will face charges for aiding and abetting. You know that your kid will be on his own. Probably in the system. Just like you…" He saw her last drop of blood fading away. He wished he was a smoother talker. "Look… I know people do stupid things for the ones they love. And between the two of you, I can't quite put my finger on who's the stupidest._

"_I have a kid your age. I want good things for her. I'd give my life for hers if someone told me to. So here's the deal. Between you and me alone. Give yourself in. Finish your time. Whatever it is, it's far, far less than what you're looking at now to protect your kid and Ms Mills. I'm going to open this door. I'm going to leave it open. And you're going to talk to your… friend… and make sure she'll take care of the little one. And then, you're going to walk in through the main door. Voluntarily."_

"_Why?"_

"_Did anyone ever put their life on the line for you? Like a father or a mother would?"_

"_She did." Sheriff Mac hummed and nodded. "Is that what you're doing?"_

"_Only if you skip town."_

"_What happens next?"_

"_Talk to her. She spent a fair part of the night crying in her cell and something tells me that it was not the legal dire straits she's in that worried her…"_

"_I meant…"_

"_Ah, that… You'll go and finish your time, get out and then you start living again. It will go by faster than you think now. And then you're free to do whatever… to take your kid to the park, to take him to nursery, to find a job… the usual, you know? Life is pretty much drudgery unless you have someone great in it. The way I figure, the most difficult part, you've already done: you found yourself someone that makes the drudgery worth the hassle."_

_Emma wiped her palms on her jeans and gave the Sheriff a smile. "And you're not going to shoot me in the back when I walk out the door?"_

"_My daughter's name is Megan. I swear on Megan's life that I'm not setting you up."_

"_What do you want?"_

"_Ah… no such thing and a free ride, yes?"_

_Emma nodded. "I guess you're just going to have to trust me on this one, Kid."_

"_I'm not a kid!"_

"_Force of habit."_

_Emma hesitated for a few seconds only. If there was a way she could get Regina out of this, she would. She would grovel and lie and cheat and kill if she had too. So how was this different? "Thank you."_

"_Don't mention it. And I mean that in the strictest legal sense." He tapped her hand and stood. "Come on, I'll walk you out. Both of you."_

… … …

Regina got home with Henry babbling his toddlerese animatedly. She dropped her bag and showered him, put on new clothes on him, some she'd bought for the occasion and then settled him in the playpen."Behave, Henry! Mommy's just going to make self presentable."

She showered and paid special attention to the details she had been neglecting for lack of anyone to do it for. Then she shimmied into a black dress. When she looked in the mirror, an odd Regina stared back at her, neither good nor bad, just someone who put on a dress to welcome someone sorely missed for a very long time. She didn't see the blood on her hands or the sins on her shoulders. She didn't see any ghosts demanding retribution. Only a woman.

She applied make up and did her hair.

She dreaded the moment Emma would look at her and think that it was not worth the wait. That she was not worth the sacrifice. She longed for the moment she would put her arms around Emma and just stay there. She longed for the moment they would both fall into bed that night and just hold each other because it had been so long.

"How do I look?" She asked Henry. He stood in the playpen and gave her a smile, busy chewing on the edge of the playpen. "Do I look okay?"

_You're really pretty when you're worrying._

… … …

_The key turned on the door of the access corridor and two pairs of steps shuffled in. Regina moved like a loaded spring. Emma stood calmly on the other side, the Sheriff at her side. The Sheriff touched Emma's arm gently. "I'll be right outside." A feeling of dread settled in Regina's stomach._

"_We need to talk." Regina's knees buckled and the only thing that held her up was the wall behind her and her iron will._

"_You're leaving." Emma nodded. Regina shuddered. "You're leaving me."_

"_What? No! Oh, god, I wanted to do this right, but I'm fucking it up as usual." Regina nodded frantically. "Look, Regina, please listen."_

_Regina slumped on the bed where Henry was fast asleep. "The thing is… Look… I trust you… with my life, okay? That's why I'm going to do this right. We have a chance here. A real one."_

"_No… no, please don't. Please. What about…"_

"_Regina, look… We're never going to be normal, we're never going to have a normal life if_"_

"_I don't want normal, I want_"_

"_What, Regina? For Henry never to go to school because I'm on the run? For us never to be able to take him to a doctor because I'm a fugitive? It was great… this time with you… it was the best time of my life. Bar none. But… look, I'm really counting on you here. I'm putting all my trust in you. And that is the most difficult thing for me to do. Take care of Henry. Don't let him go into foster care. Don't let Gold get his hands on him. And when I'm… done… we can settle down, you know, somewhere where there's a beach and MaiTais and Henry can go to day care and then to school and we won't have to worry about shadows chasing us… That's what I want for us."_

"_You did not kidnap me, Emma. I can't let them accuse you of that and_"_

"_I'm going to come back here and turn myself in. No son, no girlfriend. I was never in that car with you. You'll pay your fine for the inspection and take your son home, promise to pay more attention like a good girl."_

"_But the Sheriff_"_

"_Sheriff's cool, R'gina. I promise. A good man. A real good man."_

"_But… What will I do? What will you do?"_

"_Well, I don't have it all figured out, but the way I see it, you can go to college or you can find yourself a beach to serve MaiTais and you can visit me on the weekends, if you have time and… it's going to go by quickly, you'll see…"_

_Regina told herself to be a grown up, to help Emma with this decision, but so many things could go wrong. They would be apart for so long…_

"_Do you trust me that much?"_

_Emma sat down on the bed and took her hand. "You did. You trusted me after all the shit I pulled. So yes. I do. I trust with my life." She placed a chaste kiss on Regina's lips. "Did I ever tell you that you're really pretty when you're worrying?"_

… … …

When Officer Steliakos called her name and the cell opened, Emma walked through it without a backwards glance. She'd said her goodbyes to the one friend she'd made in jail and walked behind the guard. It had paid up to keep her head down and her nose clean. She was leaving exactly the same way she had come in, no scars or memories to terrorize her in the night. Not like the first time around.

"Will your Regina be waiting for you?"

"Yes."

"With your son?" Emma nodded, her throat tight with apprehension. The day was here, the hour was here and she was still expecting the worst. "That's good. That's real good. Be happy, Swan. Are you going to marry her?" The thought startled Emma. She and Regina were a thing, that was it. No time limits so they just _were_. But marriage was something she hadn't considered. "You should, you know? She kept you sane in here, didn't she? She's good for you. You don't let good things go… not unless you're aiming for regret."

Emma clutched Regina's drawings to her chest.

_Draw me like one of your French girls…_

Regina had sent pictures and drawings, been there every single Wednesday, with Henry in her arms. It was more than keeping her sane. Regina had reminded her of why she was doing this. And every Saturday, when the pictures and drawings arrived, she reminded her that she was not doing it alone. It strengthened her trust.

"I know you're in somewhat of a hurry, Swan, but there's someone who wants to see you before you go."

A voice in the back of Emma's mind whispered _I told you so._ But when the guard opened a meeting room and showed her in, inside, sitting with a bunch of flowers, was Sheriff Mac, looking for all the world like he was sitting in his living room. He stood when she walked in, still in her orange jumpsuit and greeted her with an incline of the head. "Miss Swan!"

"Sheriff Mac…"

"I wondered if you'd remember me…"

"I don't forget things people do to me. Good or bad. I owe you."

"Okay, I was counting on something like that."  
"What for?" Her hackles rose. _No such thing as a free meal._

"Have you given any thought to what you're going to do tomorrow?"

"Walk. I'm going to walk on the beach. Maybe have a Mai Tai."

"Sounds like a plan. They have themselves some nice beaches in this part of the world."

"Why do you ask?"

"I have this friend… he used to be on the job… he needs someone… let's call it… resourceful... The pay is sort of commission based but, for some reason, I think you'd do extremely well."  
"Sheriff, please talk fast because I'm getting some crazy ideas here that I don't like…"

"Oh, well, I was building up to it, but if I have to cut to the chase, my friend, DA, he's not a pimp or a drug lord, Miss, Swan. He operates a bail bonds agency."

"I'm not secretary material, Sheriff."

"I think you're giving yourself very little credit but be that as it may, the position available is for a bail bondsman… bonds girl… Person… Look… whatever. It was just a thought. I think you'd do well at it."

"You're offering me a job."

"No. I'm giving you the heads up on a job that's available. Call DA and mention my name. You'll still need to prove to him that you've got what it takes."

"DA?"

"Dumbass. DA for short. Just don't let the name fool you."

… … …

Emma carried her bunch of flowers with her. No one had ever given her flowers. She didn't know how to hold them or what to feel about them. She put them down carefully on the bench to change into the clothes she no longer knew how to wear. The jeans felt too tight and the sweater to small. She loved it all over again. She would never, ever wear loose clothes again. Not if her life depended on it. She grabbed the flowers and the envelope with the drawings and took a deep steadying breath. This was the day. This was the time she'd get to hold Regina again without guards worrying about what they were doing and interrupting them.

This was the time for a happy ending.

Officer Steliakos was waiting for her outside the locker room. Emma's heart was beating fast and her palms were sweating. Steliakos turned around. This was, for her, a somewhat familiar sight: a prisoner who is anxious to go back outside, anxious about facing what she's left behind. One thing she knew from experience: those that sweated before going through the last door, those that worried and had their stomach in knots, did well. Because they worried about what those waiting for them on the other side thought. It was a good thing, to have someone that worried about you, that worried about your fate. That helped keeping to the straight and narrow when everything was one hundred times worse when you had a rap sheet.

She placed her hand on the prisoner's back when Emma leaned forward because she was hyperventilating and rubbed a soothing circle. "Come on, Emma, chin up. Your son and your Regina are waiting outside."

"What if I fuck it up?"

"Don't. Apologies generally mean very little and are best avoided. Come on, deep breaths."

Officer Steliakos punched in the code for the door, swiped her card and then slowly pushed the heavy bullet proof door open, letting the sun in. As her eyes adapted to the bright light of the young sunset outside, she saw Swan's Regina. During the last year, she had felt a compulsion to look out for this young girl who'd never had much going for her in life just to make sure she got to the end of her time. Just to see how she would reunite with the woman that came every Wednesday with a blond baby in her arms. The kid's hair was the first thing she noticed: it was growing darker, losing the babyish blond. It was so odd. She would swear the kid was Swan's through and through but the more time passed, the more he became like the visitor, Regina, darker hair, soft smile. He could well be her son. Though, she had seen enough through the CCTV to know that it really didn't matter whose blood ran in the baby's veins. Not one bit.

Behind her, Emma lost the stiffness of the muscles and walked forward, across the path to the parking lot. The other woman had been leaning against the hood of the car, the baby now walking confidently around her legs, running, hopping. Emma had a moment of hesitation that gave the other woman time to pick up the boy and hold him like an offering, a gift. And Emma's arms opened and she wrapped herself around the pair. Steliakos knew better that to get emotional. She knew better than to let it get to her or think of anything along the lines of _job well done_ but damned if it didn't feel that way, damned if it didn't make her eyes overflow and damned if it didn't restore her faith in world even if just for a little while.

Hers was a tough job and moments like this never ending embrace made it a little easier when they happened.

… … …

Regina passed Henry to Emma's arms and crouched down to pick up the flowers. She should have thought about it but had been too consumed with new sheets, meal in the oven, clean house, candles in strategic places of the tiny apartment that Emma had never seen.

Emma plucked a flower from the bunch and placed it on her hair. "You look really pretty with flowers in your hair." Regina blushed violently. It was so endearing that Emma had to pull her into her again. Henry squirmed wanting to be on the ground, running. Emma almost humored him but she took one look at what stood behind her. "Can we go home now?"

Regina handed her the keys but Emma just shook her head and smiled softly. "You're really pretty when you're driving."

… … …

"Boston?" Regina shivered slightly. The breeze from the Pacific was cold at sunset and a sexy black dress was not appropriate attire. She had Emma's leather jacket on but the thought of going back so close to Storybrooke was chilling.

"I know, it's the other side of the country."

"I know where it is, Emma. Why would you want to go there. So close to Storybrooke?"

"We don't have to go. I was just wondering…" Emma shrugged and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans. "It's not that close. There's at least two state lines in between and we don't owe them anything. We paid all our dues, Regina. It was one hell of a payment plan but we don't owe them anything."

Regina looked at the sun setting in a blaze of glory over the Pacific. Henry was asleep in his car seat and, it seemed, the world belonged to them at that moment, sitting on a picnic table on an empty beach.

"I mean… I know you're happy here, that you have a good life for you here…"

"Emma, my life is serving MaiTais on the beach. Believe me, there's only so many unwanted pats and pinching on the butt that you can take before the romance gets sucked out of it."

"But I thought you liked it…"

"I do. I like it wherever you are."

"So…"

"So, if you want to go to Boston, let's go. Just tell me what's in Boston. Let me make my own decisions. Informed decisions. I've had- we both did- enough of people deciding our life for us without so much as a do you mind."

"Sheriff Mac was there. He brought the flowers."

"He was?"

Emma assented distracted. It really was a beautiful sunset. If Regina wanted to stay, she'd make it work here as well. "Yeah…"

"He was at the bar some time ago. Asked about Henry. About you."

"He told me to call his friend in Boston. That he'd have a job for me."

"What kind of a job?" Emma's hair seemed on fire, reflecting the dying light of the sunset. She held Regina's hand.

"Please don't be mad."

"Why would I_"

"Bail bondsman. Please… don't be mad."

A million and one scenarios rushed through Regina's mind, all of them violent, bloody. Awful. "Emma…"

"I know… But think about it, Regina, what else am I qualified to do? I don't want to be serving KFC for the rest of my days. I want better for Henry. For you. For us."

"But it's…"

"Dangerous, I know."

"What about Henry?"

"He has you. You're his mom. You're the one he wants to go to sleep with. The one that soothes him. If anything happens_" Regina gasped. "And I'm not saying it will, he'll have you. But there's already so much I didn't do, Regina. I want to start living my way, not on lucky breaks. I want to make my own way…"

"And this is the way you want?"

"If you want to come with me, yes, it is. Otherwise, staying here is the way I want to go."

"There is one thing I haven't done yet…" Emma pushed Regina's hair behind her ear and ran her thumb on the underside of her chin. "College. There is still money. A lot went on nursery but there is still some left. Boston has the Massachusetts College of Art and Design."

This shouldn't be so easy. Life wasn't this easy for her. Not ever. "You're sure?"

"Well, yes… I mean, I could… how easy is it to get a place, you think? Because I could… I mean… I probably need to take some exams… God, Emma, can you imagine?"

Oh yeah, Emma could. "You look really, really pretty when you're happy." Regina's smile was brilliant, alive, magnetic. It pulled Emma into a kiss, one that started soft, light and then deepened into a frenzy, bruising, tugging at her body, at the urges that Regina so easily brought to the surface in her.

A cat call of "Get a room" followed by laughter, brought them back to reality, Regina's hands on Emma's crotch, Emma's on Regina's legs, sneaking under the dress, their bodies already in a rocking motion right on that old rickety table on the beach that was not as deserted as they'd imagined. Emma pulled back with difficulty because her body was primed for more, so much more and wiped a strand of saliva still connecting her to Regina. "There's just one condition, then."

It took Regina a few seconds to catch up. "Condition? What condition?" The tone became anxious and haughty and challenging. The smudged red lipstick did nothing to hide the anxiety. Whoa, she looked really pretty like that too.

"Marry me, Regina."

There was a moment of silence. Then: "Okay."

"What?" The shock was immediate. No, things were never this easy. Not for her.

"I said okay. Did I misunderstand the question?"

"Well, it wasn't a question. It was sort of like an order, a nice, gentle one, though."

"But you said _Marry me_. That's usually a question."

"I did. And you said okay."

"I did. When?"

"Now?"

"What do you mean _now_?"

"Marry me now. Marry me here."

"There's no one here."

"R'gina, we had a baby in the middle of nowhere without doctors. Can't we get married in the middle of nowhere without a guy in a suit?"

"But… it won't be official. It won't_"

"Just don't say it won't count… You'll still need to marry me with a proper paper. I want Henry to be yours."

"He is mine now. There's nothing I won't do for him." Emma could hear the fierce protectiveness, the hint of sadness and worry in Regina's voice.

"I want him to be yours on paper. I want you to sign his permission slips and take him to doctor if he needs it. I want everybody else to know what Henry and I already do. That he is your son. Just marry me now. We get the papers later. Marry me now."

"We're doing everything backwards…"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Oh, god! Oh god! I don't have a ring." Emma stood abruptly from the table and looked around her as if a jewelry shop would suddenly materialize in the middle of a deserted beach at sundown. "R'gina, I don't have a ring." She patted her pockets even though it was painfully obvious that there would be nothing there. She opened the door of the Mercedes and rummaged through the glove compartment even though she was absolutely sure there would be nothing there. Regina kept the car ruthlessly clean. She stood- not without banging her head on the door on her backwards way out of the car and looked at Regina. There was a little smirk of victory on her face, a _I told you so_ kind of smile.

"How can you marry me without a ring?" The slight mocking was for show only. Emma could see the fidgeting, so uncharacteristic in Regina, the way she was wiping her palms on her legs. On a whim, she grabbed Regina's face and planted a kiss on the inviting red lips, a solid, warm, promising kiss.

"Don't go anywhere." She went back to the car, rummaged through Regina's purse until she found a pencil. She ran back to Regina. "Okay… it's not a ring." She produced a black eyeliner that Regina had used that afternoon.

"No," Regina smiled. It's not. "Are we improvising?"

"Yeah, we are." Emma sat facing Regina, the ocean rolling softly against the sand, the sun dying in a blaze over the Pacific. They called it the ocean with no memory. Emma uncapped the eyeliner and took Regina's left hand in hers. She hoped their old memories, the ones before they had found each other could be swept away by the Pacific. She kissed Regina's ring finger, something slow and deliberate that had a sudden effect on Regina's body, more arousing, more warming than the heated kisses they had shared so far. "I'll get you a ring in the morning. First thing. I promise. It probably won't be a good one, you know, 'cause right now, I'm poor as a church mouse, but I'll get you a ring."

"Us."

"I'll get us rings."

"Emma, just marry me already!"

"I… god… R'gina… I don't know much about weddings… I've never even been to one… But I always thought it's really difficult, you know, the ever after part 'cause people make all these promises no one can keep and it's never just about the love and there's always shit that gets thrown in the middle, things that hurt… and you know me, my talent to say the wrong thing and do the wrong thing and I am so scared that I'm gonna fuck it all up because that's all I ever do." She took the eyeliner to Regina's skin and slowly, as she spoke, began to draw a line that entwined itself like a vine around Regina's finger. "Because the only thing I know for sure is that there will be bad times. And I don't want to make promises that I can't keep. So… I can promise there are going to be times when you'll hate me or I'll hate you. I promise you that I'll get on your nerves and you'll get on mine. I promise you that we'll disagree and that we'll, at one point or another, break each other's heart." The line flowed carefully out of the eyeliner onto Regina's skin with every word, as good as a tattoo of each one. "But I promise you, with all my heart, that I'll always fight for us. Because I truly believe that you are the best thing that has or will ever happen in my life. And I hope_ I know," Emma completed the winding line and placed a kiss on the makeshift ring, "that I'm good for you. Because I see you. I see inside you, through you. And you're really pretty. Everything about you is really pretty." Emma's finger traced an up and down path on the underside of Regina's finger. "So pretty. So please, marry me. Marry us, Henry and me. Be ours."

The black ink of the eyeliner glowed in the embers of the dying sunset. It glowed on Regina's finger like gold or fairy dust, a magic all of its own. Regina admired the entwining lines of her ring and it felt like warmth radiated from it and pushed away at the cold. She took the eyeliner in her right hand and Emma's left hand in hers unaware that the tears were leaving mascara tracks on her cheeks.

She sniffled and it was inelegant and she didn't even care. She was sitting on a rickety old picnic table on a deserted beach past the sunset getting married to the person she had chosen. That gave her license to cry. Regina drew the first line around Emma's finger in silence. Suddenly, it was a wedding. It was the beginning of their marriage. She looked into Emma's deep ocean eyes. She drowned all the memories of her first marriage in those eyes so that she could start fresh.

She had made her peace with herself by the time she started on the second line. "I won't promise that I'll belong to you, Emma. I figured that I can belong to myself. But for as long as we both want it, I give myself to you because I give you what is mine to give. I won't promise to obey you. I set myself free at great cost but for as long as we both want it, I will do everything for you, I'll do everything you ask of me. I'll take care of you and cherish you. I will cry your name in the night and look into your eyes in the morning. Only you. I will fight with you and I will fight for you. I will fight for us because I chose this. I chose us." She turned Emma's hand palm up to finish the delicate lace she had woven between the two lines. "I promise you these things now when we start out marriage as equals. So yes, Emma, I will marry you. Both of you." She punctuated her words with a kiss to the underside of Emma's ring finger.

It made Emma's centre flood with the promise and the tenderness of it. Emma stood and took the eyeliner from Regina's hand and put it in her pocket. There was no evidence that the sun had even been out in the sky. "May I kiss the bride?" She asked Regina cleaning her cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

"Please do." Regina asked strangling a sob in her throat.

Emma's fingers slid under Regina's ears and cradled her face like she would never let go. Then she got close, real close and breathed Regina in: her fading perfume, her sweet breath, the salty air of the ocean on her skin. Emma was sure of one thing only: that it would be hard, complicated, but they would make to ever after. When her lips finally touched Regina's, it was that promise she made with her mouth, her lips first, her tongue, her teeth. And bless her life, Regina made that very same promise.

When their bodies melded together, when the kiss threatened to overflow, Emma took Regina's hands in her. "Let's go home. Let's put our son to bed and have a honeymoon."

... … … … … …

That was not the most traditional wedding. Those weren't the most traditional wedding vows. It didn't evoke months of hard graft, forethought and organization. It didn't reek of fiftieth wedding anniversaries or seemingly unbreakable vows. Their wedding didn't proclaim itself to the world. But it was a testament to love. _Their love_. A proof of their choice, of their commitment to each other.

Evidence that people will survive most anything and still have it in them to try again.

_The End_

* * *

_**Author's final note:** And that's all there is. There isn't any more._

_Thank you to all of you for reading, for the favourites, the alerts, the reviews. You all are wonderful._

_Much love to you all._

_Jane_


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